


Out Of Hell

by corgifeathers



Series: Unbroken Circles [1]
Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Crowley & Beelzebub friendship, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Ineffable Bureaucracy (Good Omens), Ineffable Husbands (Good Omens), M/M, Multi, Nonbinary Beelzebub (Good Omens), Past Relationship(s), Protective Crowley (Good Omens), Werewolf, mentions of torture, slight crossover with Lucifer, there's a werewolf in it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-06
Updated: 2019-10-02
Packaged: 2020-10-11 08:55:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 33,584
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20543471
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/corgifeathers/pseuds/corgifeathers
Summary: Beelzebub is exiled and cast out of Hell for failure to start the Apocalypse, but that may just be the least of their problems.





	1. Chapter 1

Lately, there was a shadow that loomed over the countryside. No one quite knew what it was or where it had come from. They only knew that they could feel it. It felt like the terror from children's old story books. The kind of terror that held deadly consequences if you disobeyed your parents and didn't go home before dark. It lurked after the sun went down. A rustle of leaves. A chill up the spine. The smell of something terrible in the night breeze.  
  
It was fear.  
  
Though, no one quite knew the fear of what. Over the past few months, strange noises would roll across the moors. Once in a while a cow might be found eviscerated, by some rabid animal it seemed. Other times, the police would be called because someone reported a set of red fiery eyes staring at them through their window at night. Then, there were the murders.  
  
People in the community talked in hushed tones about it amongst themselves. The authorities tried to keep the facts on the down low, partly because there may just be a serial killer on the loose, partly because the actual details of the murders were too horrendous to be known by the general public.  
  
But there was always someone who let something slip. Soon enough, rumors started floating around. The younger folks passed it off as just another psycho that finally went mad from society. Some in the older generations knew better. They were the ones who became wise enough to lock their doors, grab their guns, and say a few prayers at the beginning of each long night.  
  
Talk started traveling across the countryside into the city. Whispers of something ancient and evil spread silently into London.  
  
**  
  
Gabriel enjoyed jogging. It focused his mind on the mechanics of his earthly body, took it away from the business matters of Heaven, at least for awhile. He supposed it was one positive outcome from not having Armageddon. He could still jog around the city of London as usual, without worrying about it being on fire and whatnot.

He had to admit the little extended period of peace wasn’t so bad. Things had been rather calm after the failure of the Apocalypse. He didn’t hear much from Aziraphale or his demon ‘friend.’ Though Gabriel still checked up on him once in awhile, visiting the bookshop every so often. It was only ever long enough to make an appearance, to let Aziraphale know that he was still wary of him, and that he was technically still his boss. Aziraphale usually just brushed him off. He even insisted on offering Gabriel a cup of tea every time he appeared.  
  
"Hey, wait for me!"  
  
He slowed his pace, not realizing how fast he'd sped up while lost in his mind. A young man with blonde hair bearing a noticeable black streak behind each ear caught up with him, locking in step alongside him. "Keep up, Roziel, you don't want the humans to think you're slow," Gabriel jabbed at the other, although somewhat playfully.  
  
Roziel huffed, a pounding in his chest. His green eyes blinked rapidly as if trying to catch their own breath. He was entirely new to this. It had looked easy enough, but it turned out putting one's earth-bound manifestation into rigorous physical activity was quite strenuous. "It's not like...they know what...we are," he breathed out, trying to hide his struggle and failing.  
  
Gabriel smirked at him. There was another positive aspect to no Armageddon. He could finally bring Roziel, his prodigy, his offspring, to Earth.  
  
Angels did not reproduce in the same way that humans did. As celestial creatures, their lifeforce was the Light that made up their being. Energy, raw and pure, corporated into a soul. Sometimes the Light felt the need to disperse, just as all light travels across the universe, and an angel's soul begins to separate in two. A kind of photo-mitosis, if one wanted to try assigning words to the process. The result was two souls where there had once been only one.  
  
This was Roziel. And Gabriel was quite proud of him. The young angel was polite, proper, and sharp as a Seraphim's sword. He was in the top of his class intellectually, and was also turning out to be a capable warrior. It would not be far to assume that he would be in line for Archangel once he had more experience.  
  
Which was why Gabriel allowed him to come to Earth. Heaven could only teach so much, and Roziel needed to see real humans with his own eyes, rather than just pictures of them in textbooks.  
  
They continued in a slow jog around the park. Gabriel forced himself to watch his pace. Roziel's corporation would adjust to Earth's gravity and atmospheric pressure soon enough, and by then the newer, younger version of himself may just be running laps around him.  
  
**  
  
Crowley sped along in his Bentley, _Brighton Rock_ blaring out the windows. The humans had been smart to combine both music and cars. The two of those mixed incredibly well together. The only thing that could provide him an even better high was Aziraphale.  
  
He was on his way to meet the angel. Since the Not-Apocalypse, they had made it a point to spend more time together. That event, or lack thereof, had been the catalyst that prompted Crowley to muster the courage to finally, _finally_, tell Aziraphale how he felt. He had his entire speech planned. The moment came and just as he opened his mouth, Aziraphale beat him to it. It had been so cliché, Crowley had briefly wondered if they were stuck in a twisted romantic comedy and all of Heaven and Hell were laughing at them with a hearty bowl of popcorn.  
  
Even if they were, it didn't bother Crowley. He had his angel and Aziraphale had his demon. They were bound to each other for eternity, and that was a sentence Crowley would gladly accept. Their Arrangement remained intact, but when they weren't "working," they managed to find whatever ridiculous excuse they could to be around each other.  
  
The sun was shining and the air was crisp. Even the traffic was light. He maneuvered with ease across town. He was happy. The city was happy. The world was new again and here to stay, and it was all theirs for the taking.  
  
He pulled up to the park that was their meeting place. He parked in his usual spot and trotted over to the duck pond, where that familiar angelic form was waiting for him.  
  
"You're late," Aziraphale said.  
  
"I'm right on time," Crowley countered back, throwing a long arm around Aziraphale's shoulders as they sat on the bench.  
  
Crowley looked at Aziraphale. His visage was beautiful, and not just because Crowley loved him. It was hard to dismiss the perfect moldings of a perfect heavenly creature. Angels were beings of light, and light bounced off and danced all across his skin, like little specks of glitter. Aziraphale could mask this effect from mortal beings and pretend to be a normal human. Crowley could always see it though. "You're gorgeous," he said, and he leaned forward to peck the angel on the cheek.  
  
It was while his lips made contact with Aziraphale's skin that he caught the odd look in his eye. An angel's eyes were so vast it was as if they held their own universe. Aziraphale's were always so bright and scintillating, Crowley thought he could see stars moving within them. So it made the demon frown when he noticed the strange dimmer in Aziraphale's eyes.  
  
"What's wrong?" he asked. He pulled away but remained close, his nose hovering over Aziraphale's ear.  
  
Aziraphale furrowed his brow. "I dreamt last night. Actually, it was more of a nightmare."  
  
This startled Crowley. He knew Aziraphale did not normally take to sleeping. He actually had to give the angel a few pointers on how to do it effectively because he attempted it so rarely. "A nightmare? About what?"  
  
Aziraphale hesitated, and Crowley didn't know if he was trying to recall it or was deciding against telling him about it. He finally spoke. "It was about you...I think. I'm not sure. I did see a serpent. As well as a fly and a hummingbird."  
  
"And what were these creatures doing?"  
  
Aziraphale paused. He looked at Crowley. The demon could see pain in his vast, perfect eyes and Crowley did not like it. "They were dying."  
  
He squeezed Aziraphale's shoulders tightly, a little too protectively. "It's alright. It was just a dream. It means nothing."  
  
"I do hope so."  
  
Crowley hoped so too. In truth, he didn't know what it meant when an angel had dreams. Aziraphale slept so rarely, it could be one of two things. One, it was a complete fluke, a random firing of his subconscious. Or two, it was a warning. Premonitions and prophecies weren't exactly all they were cracked up to be these days, so Crowley just expected it was the first option.  
  
"Don't worry about it," he said confidently, gathering as much bravado as he could to soothe the angel. He took Aziraphale's hand and pulled him upwards. "C'mon, let's feed the ducks."

The afternoon went along fairly normal. Aziraphale seemed to put his nightmare to the back of his mind as they fed the ducks and softly chatted about mundane things. Crowley remained close to him, holding his hand or hooking his arm as they walked around the pond. He was glad he could provide some comfort to the angel. It wasn't a normal job for a demon, but he was good at it.  
  
"Why don't you stay with me tonight?" Crowley suggested.  
  
Aziraphale smiled, and Crowley was relieved when the darkness that had been haunting his eyes had vanished. "Really? And miss the new book I just picked up yesterday?"  
  
Crowley knew the angel was teasing him. "Bring it with you. I'll keep you safe."  
  
Aziraphale leaned forward and pressed his forehead against the demon's. He could see right past the dark shade of his sunglasses and into the reptilian eyes. "I know you will."  
  
Crowley held him there like that for what seemed like hours. Though only a few minutes passed before a noise tried to wrestle him out of his bliss. He ignored it. The noise came back, louder this time and more irritated.  
  
Someone was clearing their throat and was doing it right next to them. Crowley looked up and audibly groaned. He growled through gritted teeth, "_Gabriel_."  
  
Aziraphale suddenly and awkwardly stepped away from him, flustered. He turned to face his superior. "Gabriel! Oh my, how-what brings you here?" He straightened up as he found his words, attempting to look professional, forgetting he was still holding Crowley's hand.  
  
Gabriel narrowed his gaze on Aziraphale, ignoring the demon. "Well, we were just in the neighborhood." He motioned beside him.  
  
It was then Aziraphale noticed the second angel. A younger fellow dressed in a similar business-like fashion as Gabriel. Crowley gazed at this other angel as well. It was one he was not familiar with.  
  
"This is Roziel. It's his first day on Earth."  
  
A lightbulb went off somewhere in Aziraphale's head. "Roziel! I remember you! We briefly met a few millennia ago. You were just a small thing then. My, how you've grown!"  
  
"Pleased to meet you...again," Roziel half-bowed his head politely. Though, he never took his eyes off Crowley. _So this is what a real demon looks like_, he thought.  
  
Gabriel stared coldly at Crowley. "Well, I suppose you two weren't doing anything important? I might bother to ask you, Aziraphale, if you could show Roziel some of your human books? He is here to learn about them after all."  
  
Crowley sneered. "Actually, Archangel-"  
  
"Actually!" Aziraphale cut in, "I would be delighted to!"  
  
Crowley looked hurt. Aziraphale squeezed his hand, sensing his distress. "And, if I might add, my dear Crowley here is very familiar with human music. Perhaps you are interested in that as well, Roziel?"  
  
Crowley suddenly perked up. _Oh, how Aziraphale can so easily turn the tables on Gabriel! _He leaned forward in a mock bow. "My services are yours, young angel."  
  
Gabriel was about to very loudly object to this, but Roziel beamed. "Thank you! I love music! I've always wanted to hear what the humans have made!"  
  
Aziraphale smiled. Gabriel glared at him and the demon. If looks could kill, Crowley would have been dead a hundred times over.  
  
"Well," Gabriel huffed, intent on maintaining his composure in front of his prodigy. "Bookshop first then?" He forced out a smile, and not a very pleasant one at that.  
  
"Of course! Umm, Crowley dear, perhaps there is room in your car?"  
  
Crowley grinned a devil's grin, knowing Gabriel would never take the offer. "Absolutely!" He just wanted to see the archangel squirm at the thought of hitching a ride. _With him._  
  
As if on cue, Gabriel began shuffling Roziel away. "It's fine. We will walk! Better way to see the city, after all."  
  
Aziraphale was just about to argue this point, when there was a sudden _BOOM_. All four gathered looked around in surprise. It sounded like thunder, but there were no clouds. A few ducks scattered, startled by the noise. Several humans looked up curiously, saw nothing, and continued about their way.

"Well," Aziraphale started, "that was odd. Strange weather, wouldn't you say?"  
  
Crowley tensed up. _It's not the weather._ He felt uneasy. Something happened. Something...bad. He whirled around, all his demonic instincts suddenly homing in on the source of the disturbance.  
  
"Do you feel that?" he said.  
  
Aziraphale stared at him. "Feel what, Crowley?"  
  
Gabriel was suddenly cautious of him, standing closer to Roziel.  
  
Crowley's head turned in every direction. He smelled the air, as if searching for something. "There!" he exclaimed, and he ran, letting go of Aziraphale.  
  
Aziraphale looked alarmed, but followed. Curious and ever suspicious, Gabriel went as well, Roziel in tow.  
  
Crowley ran across the park, several strides ahead of the angels. He ignored every human in his path. Aziraphale called after him. "This way!" he called back. He wasn't even sure of what he was looking for, he only knew to keep following the invisible path before him.  
  
It led him to a grove of trees and bushes. He slowed and noticed the smell of burning wood in the air. There was a small trace of black smoke emanating from the branches as if lightning had struck the trees and these trees only.  
  
He climbed over the shrubs. And then he heard it. A whimper, and the sound of heaving sobs. He proceeded cautiously. Someone was in here, crying. He pulled back another patch of branches, and stopped.  
  
There on the ground, surrounded by what was left of burning shrubs, was a body. Alive, but its skin red and torn. He could smell blood and boiling flesh.  
  
Crowley knew the handiwork of the torturers of Hell when he saw it. But as he drew closer, he just couldn't believe who had been on the receiving end of that torture. "Lord Beelzebub?"  
  
Aziraphale, Gabriel, and Roziel caught up to the demon. They climbed through the thicket after him, noticing an inexplicable change in the air. Aziraphale found Crowley knelt over something. No, _someone._ "Oh my," he breathed out. He could not ignore that the feeling of dread from last night had suddenly returned full force.  
  
Gabriel saw the form on the ground, instantly recognizing it. He stopped in his tracks as he climbed through the bushes. Something in him stirred unpleasantly. For the first time in his life, he felt a chill go up his spine. However, he was still of mind enough to tell Roziel to "Stay back."  
  
Roziel wanted to protest, but his father gave him a look that said to obey. Roziel did. He tried to get as best view he could from his place between the trees.  
  
Crowley carefully put his hands out. "My Lord...it's ok. It is me, Crowley." He was afraid to touch. Not to only startle, but to cause any more pain. Open wounds ran over Beelzebub’s body in a pattern that looked very much like liquid. Burns from Holy Water, Crowley realized. Slash marks from the torturer's whip crisscrossed their back.  
  
Beelzebub struggled on bleeding arms and hands. Their skin boiled and steamed, exposed to the Earth's air. Shredded black robes were the only garment left on them and it didn't even cover half of them. They turned their head slowly, vaguely aware that someone was next to them. It was then Crowley saw the mark seared onto their forehead. The unmistakable rune that meant only one thing…  
  
Aziraphale drew closer. "What’s happened to them, Crowley?"  
  
"They've been exiled," Crowley answered.  
  
Aziraphale’s eyes widened. "Exiled? But how? Why?"  
  
"I don't know."  
  
Beelzebub was of no mind to ask for details either. Their eyes could not even focus on Crowley, who only inches away from them. They hunched over in a dry sob.  
  
The wind rustled the trees and dogs began howling far off in the distance. Dark clouds began gathering overhead.

Crowley felt shadows stirring. He removed his jacket. "We need to get out of here," he said, carefully laying the jacket over Beelzebub’s battered shoulders.  
  
Both Aziraphale and Gabriel felt the sudden urgency in his voice. Aziraphale looked at him worriedly. “What's happening Crowley?"  
  
Gabriel wanted to know too. "Explain this now, demon."  
  
Crowley picked up the smaller demon as best he could without causing unnecessary pain. Beelzebub still yelped at the touch, but had no strength to fight. They remained limp in Crowley's arms.  
  
"Lord Beelzebub has been tortured and exiled to Earth. We have to get them to a safe place before other demons figure this out and come to finish the job. And trust me, there are plenty others who would very much like have a private chat with them."  
  
Crowley climbed out of the thicket, wary of any approaching strangers. The three angels tailed after him. They made sure no humans noticed the barely alive person being carried to the parked Bentley on the curb. Crowley placed Beelzebub in the backseat and motioned to Aziraphale.  
  
Aziraphale turned to Gabriel and Roziel before getting into the car. "Well," he said to them. "Bookshop first, right?"

Gabriel nodded. “We’ll meet you there.”

The Bentley sped off and two angels made their way down the street as a storm began rolling into London.


	2. Chapter 2

This part of the city was dark and quiet during the dead of night. Not many humans were lurking in the park. Something had knotted itself into the gut feelings of the usual night owls and had driven them off.   
  
It didn't matter to him. It meant less distraction from his current hunt. He wasn't in the mood for human flesh anyway. He’d been having a bit too much of it, lately.  
  
He walked under the dark clouds, moving between the shadows, a massive hulking figure stalking on all fours. He smelled the still night air and caught a faint whiff of blood. Not human blood, nor animal blood. It was demon blood. He grinned, his giant maw lined with dagger shaped teeth.   
  
He followed the scent to a patch of trees. He crawled through the brush and found a charred circle on the ground. But no body. What a bother, he thought, disappointment flashing across his canine features. However, the demon could not have gone far. Not in its current condition anyway.  
  
He sniffed the burnt ground, looking for a trail to follow. An ear pricked when he caught something he was not expecting. _There were others!_ Another demon he did not know, but also something else. They were not humans though. He analyzed the scent. Ah, they were angels…

What a predicament this suddenly became. If angels were guarding his prey, it might mean more trouble than he had been expecting. Oh well. His hunt would just have to last a little bit longer before he got his prize.   
  
He crawled out of the trees and dashed across the park, slinking further into the night. If there were angels that wanted to put up a fight, Fenrir was more than happy to give it to them.

As he disappeared into the shadows, rain began pelting the ground.

**  
  
First, there was only pain. It was fine. They could handle pain. They were familiar with it. But then the pain grew and grew in intensity until it burned. It didn't just burn their skin, it was burning their soul. They were being doused with Holy Water.

The flames of Hell, the domain they thought was their home, roared around them. Or maybe it was their own screaming, they couldn't tell really. They just knew the noise was deafening as something was pressed painfully into their skull. It only stopped after the fire went out. Then the cold came.   
  
It was a cold that was hotter than Hell itself. It surrounded them, picking gently at their broken body. They were aware that they had stopped screaming. They were alone, but something was approaching. They tried to move, to sit up. They could hear a voice. They gazed around but they could not see the person the voice belonged to.   
  
"It is me...Crowley..."  
  
_Crowley_. Somehow, they knew that name posed no threat. It was a reprieve from the burning torment. They let out a choked sob.   
  
They were picked up, the sudden pressure on their torn back causing a mangled cry to leap from their throat. The wind rushed past them. The sky moved. Then black.

An eternity passed.

  
A soft blue light began growing in the blackness. It grew and grew until it was bright enough that they knew they were not imagining it. It was cool and calm. They tried to focus on it, and slowly, the blue light spread and they could almost see again.   
  
There were shapes above them, moving, speaking. They recognized the shapes as faces. It was angels and they were fussing about. Apparently over them. One had white hair, the other had black. They felt they knew the black haired one from somewhere, from some distant lifetime ago.   
  
They wanted to sleep. They had never slept before, but right now seemed like a good place to start. The angels' presence, the fierce light of their souls, their natural love, told them it was okay. They could rest. They would be protected.   
  
Everything became black again.  
  
**  
  
Roziel did not quite know what to make of this. He doubted every angel's first day on Earth was as exciting as his was turning out to be. First, a rigorous jog, then he met a demon. Then he met another demon, albeit a semi-conscious one. And now, they were all together in another angel's bookshop.   
  
What was he going to tell his friends and classmates back in Heaven?   
  
Plus, the semi-conscious demon was the Prince of Hell, or had been up until a few hours ago. He couldn't forget that part.  
  
Roziel sat in a dark little corner of the shop, watching his father and Aziraphale tending to Beelzebub. They managed to locate a couch underneath several piles of books, and had lain the battered demon on it, dressing the wounds as best they could.   
  
Crowley was pacing around. Roziel could see that he was nervous, upset.   
  
Roziel remained quiet in his corner, mindlessly thumbing the edges of a book next to him. Aziraphale had said to make himself comfortable, to read whatever he wanted, in a half attempt to try to keep the situation calm and normal. Roziel knew there was nothing normal about this, and he wondered what this would mean for him and his father. What it meant for everyone.   
  
Meanwhile, Aziraphale placed a cool cloth over Beelzebub's forehead, cleaning away the dried blood that covered their skin and matted their hair. They had passed out again and Aziraphale was somewhat relieved. It made it easier to clean the wounds.   
  
Both he and Gabriel glided their hands over the smaller body, focusing their energies on parts that were worse damaged than others. They had to move slowly. Healing mortal bodies was one thing. That was fairly simple. Healing an immortal one was another thing all together. Wounds made from Hellsteel and Holy Water took longer to heal.   
  
Aziraphale watched Gabriel from the corner of his eye. The Archangel had been unusually silent since arriving at his shop. Aziraphale asked him to help with stabilizing Beelzebub, and he was surprised when the only answer he received was a hushed "Of course." No protesting, no back talk. Something had rattled Gabriel in his core. Aziraphale had an inkling of what it was, but kept his silence for now. It was not something he wanted to confront the Archangel with in front of Roziel.  
  
Aziraphale lifted the bloody cloth in his hand. He ran his thumb over the banishment rune burned into Beelzebub's head. It glowed as if the skull was simmering underneath.  
  
The two angels finished their work and left Beelzebub covered under a blanket, letting the demon sleep off the injuries for the night. Aziraphale offered to make everyone some tea, insisting it would calm their nerves.   
  
He brought out four cups, gathering everyone around a small dinette table. He poured the tea into each cup. Gabriel sneered at the hot liquid. Roziel was eager to take one. He looked at his father, waiting for his approval. It never came. Roziel kept the cup in his hands though. He could at least pretend to partake in this human activity. Besides, the warm feeling in his hands was quite pleasant. Aziraphale overlooked this little exchange for now as he sipped his own tea. Crowley took his but refused to sit down while he drank it.  
  
"What do you suppose brought all this about?" Aziraphale asked to nobody in particular.   
  
Gabriel straightened in his seat, speaking a full sentence for the first time since walking into the shop. "I don't know, but Heaven needs to hear about it. We must report back immediately."   
  
Roziel set his cup down, realizing what that meant. Even with all the strange things happening, he wasn't ready to leave Earth just yet. "But, shouldn't we investigate it more? We don't really know what happened. Maybe it's nothing?"   
  
"It's not nothing."   
  
All three angels looked at Crowley. The demon continued his pacing. "There's been a power shift in Hell,” he said shakily. “This is not supposed to happen! Lord Beelzebub has been one of our strongest leaders from the beginning. No one can just come in and usurp them!"  
  
"Well it appears someone has done just that," Gabriel replied, glowering at Crowley.  
  
"The question is who? Who is that powerful?" Crowley continued his pacing, raising a shaking hand to drink a sip of tea every few steps.

His mind was racing. Beelzebub had agreed to leave him and Aziraphale alone, and Beelzebub had so far honored that request. Now the Prince of Hell had been dethroned, and Crowley’s current life of bliss and freedom from Hell would surely be threatened as a result.  
  
Gabriel shook his head. "Heaven still needs to know. Roziel, come. We're going home." He stood up. Roziel reluctantly stood as well, knowing he was not going to win this argument.   
  
Aziraphale followed them to the door. "If I may ask, what do you think is going to be about done this whole ordeal?" He waved his hands to Beelzebub on the couch.   
  
Gabriel gave one last glance to the sleeping demon, a sad frown crossing his face. "If it concerns you, you will hear about it."   
  
They left. Aziraphale closed the door. He felt baffled. Of course it concerned him. Beelzebub was recovering on _his_ couch, in _his_ bookshop! He left the feeling alone for now. He turned his attention to Crowley.   
  
He walked over to the demon. Crowley hadn't even noticed him approach. Aziraphale reached out and grabbed his hand as he was about to pass by, suddenly stopping him in his tracks.   
  
He pulled the demon to him. "Look at me." Aziraphale stared him in the eyes. "Be still. It will be alright," he said softly.   
  
Crowley said nothing. He only pressed his forehead against his angel's, just as he had done in the park before the world shifted.

**

Braum was your typical demon. Dirty skin, long messy hair, red eyes. A light-colored suit that may have been white at one time but it was hard to tell now. He crept around the rougher parts of London at night, spooking unsuspecting humans from the shadows. That was his favorite past-time these days, or rather nights. He preferred the night life. There was more darkness to go around.   
  
He leaned against a brick wall in a back alley, slowly drawing on a cigarette. It was more for show than anything. A way to lure desperate humans closer to him. The poisons laced inside had no lasting effect on his particular physiology.   
  
"Hey man, can you spare a cig?" they would ask. He would take a long drag. "Don't you know smoking can kill you?" he would reply, blowing smoke in their face. The burning end would catch the red in his eyes. Those that were desperate enough for a hit just might catch a glimpse of the bat perched on the top of his head, right before they ran away terror.  
  
It was some form of entertainment at least. It kept him busy. Especially on a damp, rainy night like this one. It was odd, he thought. The sky had been so clear all day.   
  
Braum watched the shadows of figures move in the street. They drudged along in the rain, only a few having the mind to carry an umbrella. Most were familiar to him. The same alcoholics and addicts, making the rounds of their nightly routines of indulgence.  
  
Braum kept humans as company more than other demons. He preferred it that way and his superiors preferred it as well. He tended to fall into meaningless scraps a little too often than was necessary. Lord Beelzebub had remarked, "You don't play well with others, do you?" or something to that effect at one time.   
  
So here he was now, just like he had been the night before, and most likely where he would be the night after.   
  
"I thought your kind didn't like the rain?"  
  
Braum turned his head. A black figure was silhouetted against the lights from across the street. Rain was pelting off his broad shoulders.   
  
"Needed a shower." Braum looked away from the man but remained wary of his distance.   
  
The man stalked into the alleyway, slowly, each footstep loud and heavy. His long trenchcoat that was stained with... something swayed around his form. Braum eyed him suspiciously. This man was a stranger. He had never seen him in these parts or this city.

His hair pricked up on the back of his neck. Something wasn't right about this human.  
  
"Such a waste," the man sneered as he drew closer. Braum stood up straight, away from the wall. The man continued his approach. "You demons were once the terrors of the world. The ultimate evil. Everyone and everything feared you, respected you. Now look at you."  
  
The man was close enough that Braum could see the glimmer of fangs in darkness. There was an unnatural yellow around his pupils. Rain dripped down his hooked nose. Braum instinctively stepped away from him. "What are you? You're not human."  
  
"No, but I was once was. I am Fenrir. And I'm here to acquire your services, demon."  
  
"Werewolf," Braum stated, narrowing his eyes. He'd always been warned about these creatures by the older demons. They were unholy monsters that could do some damage to ethereal and occult beings.

Braum put on a mask of indifference, his go-to defense mechanism. "Well, at least you look like a dog."   
  
The back of his head was suddenly greeted by the wall. He felt himself lifted off the ground. Fenrir had him pinned by the neck with one big, clawed hand.  
  
"Oh, I'm much more than a dog, my friend."  
  
Braum grasped at the arm that held him. Every time he pushed away from the wall, Fenrir pushed him further into it. He tried not to panic, even though he was currently seeing his short life pass before his eyes. "What...do you want!?" he wheezed out.   
  
"Your assistance. I can tell by the little rat on your head that you have a good set of wings. You're a creature of the night. Surely you catch the comings and goings of others like yourself in this city."   
  
"Y-You want to me to fly around l-looking for someone?" Braum struggled.   
  
"I've lost a trail in the rain. It ended on the road leading from St. James' Park with a car. Now tell me, my little batty friend," Fenrir lowered him closer to his face, "What kind of angels bother themselves taking human transportation?"  
  
Something flashed across Braum's eyes that gave a little too much away.

"Tell me," Fenrir whispered into his ear in a singsong voice.  
  
Braum grimaced as the grip tightened around his throat. "I-I don't know about...angels...but I d-do know about a demon...that drives a c-car..."  
  
That was enough for Fenrir to release the pressure, and Braum slumped to the ground, gasping.   
  
Fenrir found this information interesting. So the unknown demon was helping protect his prey. "Where can I find this demon?"  
  
Braum gazed up at him. "I don't know where he lives. But I see his car parked in front of a bookshop all the time in Soho. An old Bentley. You can't miss it."   
  
Fenrir stooped down, grabbing him by the scruff. "Show me where," he said. He held Braum in place and thought it better to add a little threatening jab, just in case. "And if you try to flutter away from me, I will hunt you down and rip your wings off with my teeth."


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Monday will most likely be the day this fic is updated. I will post two chapters at a time. :)

When they opened their eyes, they were surprised they still had eyes. Beelzebub focused on the old ceiling above them, then at the numerous bookshelves around them. They mentally searched for their arms and were relieved when they realized those particular limbs were still attached to a body they still housed.

They must have made a noise, because soon the unmistakable visage of a concerned angel was looming over them. 

"Please, try not to move too much!" the angel said to them. 

Beelzebub focused on the angel's features and tried to remember its name. "I'm not discorporated?" they breathed out weakly. 

"No, fortunately not. You're very much still here."

"Where am I?"

The angel reached near them and pulled a blanket over their exposed shoulders. "London. You're in my home. You're safe here."

A sudden flood of memories hit them with the force of a hurricane. Memories of the accusations, the judgment, the mark being branded into their head, the torture... So it was true then. They had been banished to Earth. 

"Oh dear," the angel murmured. It produced a cloth from somewhere nearby and pressed it gently to Beelzebub's face.

This action briefly confused Beelzebub until they realized with horror that they were crying. Normally, their first reaction to this would be to kill anything that got a glimpse of a tear running down their face. However, since they were currently almost completely drained of their strength, all they managed to do was turn their head away in shame. Beelzebub stared at the wall of books next to them until they managed to will the tears away.

"Aziraphale! Are they awake? Are they ok?"

Another voice, but a familiar one. It was Crowley. 

"Lord Beelzebub!" Crowley exclaimed. The other demon took his place near Aziraphale. "What happened?"

There was a soft pressure on Beelzebub's arm. Crowley squeezed gently. Beelzebub composed themself enough to choke out a response. 

"I failed."

There was only silence as Beelzebub stared at the ceiling, eyes somber. "I failed to start the war..."

The other two looked at each other. "But, it wasn't exactly your fault," Aziraphale responded softly, confused. Crowley didn't remove his hand from Beelzebub's arm. 

"I should have done something. I was expected to do something. Throw the first blow. Give the signal to attack. Anything to make sure the fighting started...but I didn't. I could not disobey the Antichrist. Now here I am, stripped of my rank and cast out of Hell."

Beelzebub gazed at them. "Why did you bring me here?"

Crowley was the one to speak up. "You were in severe pain, my Lord. You were not yourself. Any of your enemies could have greatly harmed you while you were vulnerable."

"I suppose I should thank you then," Beelzebub said quietly. "It's nice to see a loyal face when I do not know who to trust anymore."

The rain continued to pour outside. Flashes of light pierced through the shop windows, followed by heavy, angry thunder. 

The current occupants of the bookshop sat silently in the gloom. Aziraphale busied himself in the kitchen while the two demons kept each other company. Beelzebub had managed to gather enough strength to prop up on an elbow, slowly but eventually sitting nearly upright. 

"What am I going to do, Crowley?" they asked the other demon with a sad sigh. "You know the human world best. Where do I go from here?"

Crowley didn't respond right away. Truthfully though, he didn't have an answer. Where was the once Prince of Hell going to live on Earth? Could they even manage it? Would Beelzebub be strong enough to ward off other demons and/or angels with a grudge against them? 

"You need to focus on regaining your strength before you start thinking of mixing in with the humans," Crowley replied. It was the best response he could come up with. 

Beelzebub nodded solemnly. Their jet black hair draped over their face like curtains. Their bare shoulders slightly shook under the blanket they were wrapped in. Their entire demeanor sagged in defeat.

Crowley didn't like it one bit. "My Lord...you're not resigning yourself to this fate, are you?"

Beelzebub did not look at him. "What else can I do?"

"You have to fight this!" Crowley exclaimed. "You did not start the war because the Antichrist told you to stand down. You were only following his orders. You've done nothing wrong!" 

Beelzebub didn't answer. Crowley leaned closer so he was looking them in eye. "You've always maintained order in Hell since the day you were sent there. You've always been just and fair in sentencing the damned. This is an injustice to you!"

They blinked at Crowley, seeming to consider these words. They reached one hand to their forehead, tenderly touching the burn mark left there. "But, even if I wanted to...this symbol prevents me from going back there. It has stolen my strength. I can't fight, I'll be destroyed."

Aziraphale popped out of the kitchen. "Then you'll need to do whatever you can to rebuild your strength here." He was carrying a tray with a bowl and spoon on it. He set it down near the couch where his guest rested. "Eat this. Food and sleep are good places to start."

Beelzebub peered at the bowl suspiciously. "What...is this?"

"It's soup," Aziraphale replied. "It contains vegetables and chicken meat. I know it seems strange, but you'll have to go by Earth's rules for energy consumption until you are stronger."

They stirred the odd liquid with bits of organic matter with the spoon. They had never eaten human food before. The smell was at least fairly pleasant. Crowley and this angel were able to regularly partake in human forms of nourishment with such ease. It was not impossible. Also, Beelzebub really had no other choice at the moment.

Beelzebub carefully brought a spoonful of the soup to their mouth. It tasted good. "Thank you," they whispered.

Aziraphale smiled.

**

It was nearly dawn when there was a knock on the door. Crowley tensed up. He remained near Beelzebub, making it his duty to watch over the smaller demon while they slept. There should be no customers at such an hour. Aziraphale cautiously peered out the windows of the shop.

He glanced back at Crowley in a way that told the demon to remain calm. 

Aziraphale opened the door and was greeted by Gabriel. He was holding a black umbrella over his head in the rain. 

Aziraphale motioned him in. Crowley remained alert, watching the Archangel intently. 

"I suppose you've come back with some good news?" Aziraphale asked as Gabriel folded the umbrella.

"Not really," Gabriel muttered, shaking the rain off. His eyes fell on Crowley, who glared at him, then drifted to the small form wrapped in blankets, asleep on the sofa. 

"Have they recovered at all?" he asked. 

"They were awake for awhile," Aziraphale said, stepping over to Crowley. "They ate some food and are sleeping it off now." 

"That's...somewhat a relief," Gabriel sighed.

Crowley frowned at him. "What are you doing back here?"

"I alerted Heaven to the current situation, as I said I was. My superiors thought it best that I come back to Earth and monitor things first-hand."

"What does Heaven plan to do about Beelzebub's exile?" Aziraphale asked.

"Nothing, for the moment. I think they want to see how this will play out."

Crowley growled. "Hell is going to be tossed into chaos without Beelzebub's leadership! If things get too out of hand, Heaven will have their excuse to intervene, and a fight will break out. This is just an attempt to restart the Apocalypse!"

Gabriel forcibly bit back the retort he had for Crowley. He didn't want to admit it, but the demon was right. Such a power shift in Hell would eventually end up influencing Heaven's hand. As much as Gabriel was eager to face his adversary, his equal, in battle, he didn't want it to happen like this. 

He had known Beelzebub from the very beginning of all things. From before the Rebellion. They were a bright star in the sky that God had made for Gabriel to gaze at with wonder and admiration. They had always been intelligent, cunning, beautiful, and powerful. Just as he considered himself. Leaders of two opposing forces. Beelzebub was his rival in every way, a universal constant in his own existence.

...And to see them now, laying here in this Earthly bookshop, beaten and broken, the faintest glimmer of what they truly were...

It tore at Gabriel so viciously that it hurt. It reawakened an emotion that he had not felt for a very, very long time. 

It was guilt.

He should have done something. He should have tried to heal their wounds better, should have carried them from the park, should have met more often with them, should have prevented them from falling from Heaven in the first place...

"Are you alright, sir?"

Gabriel snapped out of his thoughts. Aziraphale was speaking to him. "Y-Yes, I was just thinking," he said hurriedly. 

"About what?"

All turned their heads to Beelzebub. They had awoken, and were watching the three of them intently. 

"Were you thinking of a way to strike me where I lay, Gabriel?" Beelzebub asked meekly, voice hoarse and dry. They sat up on shaky arms, blanket hanging over their shoulders.

Gabriel's purple eyes brightened a little. "Beelzebub! I'm glad to see you're recovering quite well."

Beelzebub scoffed. "Are you?"

Gabriel didn't respond to that. He slowly stepped forward, aware that Crowley was loyally standing guard next to Beelzebub. "I was just thinking, if there was any possible way to send you back to Hell."

Beelzebub frowned. "This mark prevents me from going there."

"Perhaps Heaven can remove it?"

"No," Beelzebub shook their head, "I cannot go there either. It has me bound to the Earth."

Aziraphale suddenly perked up in realization. "It’s a binding seal! I recall seeing it before! One moment..."

He shuffled off somewhere into the massive library of books that was his home. There was the sound of rustling pages and rolling ladders for a few minutes, until he finally returned to the room, one large, dusty old book in hand.

He flipped through the pages. "This book here is a record of ancient symbols and runes. I know I've come across it...here!"

He set the book down on small table and pointed at the page. On it was a drawing of the same marking scorched onto Beelzebub's forehead. A brief description and what looked like instructions were written underneath it in some long forgotten language. Below that was a drawing of a broken circle.

"This is the solution!" Aziraphale exclaimed.

"What is that?" Beelzebub asked, leaning forward to look at the page.

"All magical seals have a counter. They can be broken," Aziraphale explained while running his fingers over the old words. He read the page carefully, his brow creasing. "This particular seal can be countered with a ritual performed in a stone circle, set in the realm the receiver has been banished to."

Gabriel peered at the page over Aziraphale's shoulder. "What kind of ritual?"

"It's fairly simple. Any one of us could do it," Aziraphale replied. “We just need to speak the words that will release Beelzebub from the spell.”

Crowley perked up. "So we just need the stones to make the circle then? Do we just go outside and pick some up?"

"I'm afraid that part is not as simple,” said Aziraphale, studying the text carefully. “The circle needs to be strong enough to channel the energy necessary to break the spell. We will need a reasonably large circle that holds its own power."

"Is there even such a thing?" Gabriel asked.

Aziraphale smiled. "Why yes! It's fairly close by, actually."

Crowley's eyes brightened with realization. "Stonehenge! We have to go to Stonehenge!"

A fraction of hope sparked back into Beelzebub and steadily grew. There was a way. They could potentially have their title back. They could be free of this mark and walk straight back into Hell, ask Lucifer for forgiveness, plead to be given another chance. They were the only one capable of doing the job correctly, were they not? He would have to accept their offer once he saw the mess Hell was floundering in. 

Beelzebub and Lucifer had been friends since the Rebellion, surely he could trust the demon to fix things.

They squashed the small, stinging needle prick of doubt that whispered in their ear. They could not doubt their own power.

Beelzebub looked at their fellow demon. "Take me there,” they said, their usual tone of authority seeping back into their voice.

Crowley smiled. “Yes, my Lord!”


	4. Chapter 4

By first light, the street in front of the bookshop had mostly emptied. The rain had stopped. The occasional straggler hurried back into the shadows from the slowly brightening sky.   
  
The doors of the shop opened, and out came two angels and two demons. They appeared fairly normal to any human lingering nearby, but to anything else, they were quite unusual.  
  
Aziraphale and Gabriel stood on the sidewalk as Crowley emerged with Beelzebub in tow behind him. Crowley had offered to miracle a new set of clothing for the other. Beelzebub had regained their usual garments, black pants and jacket with a white shirt underneath. Though, the medallion and red sash that normally accompanied them were absent. As long as the banishment seal remained in place, Crowley could not make those specific items apparate.  
  
Beelzebub walked slowly alongside Crowley on shaky legs. Crowley had offered his arm as support when Beelzebub had tried standing for the first time. They stubbornly declined, until nearly stumbling into a bookstand. Now Beelzebub held firmly onto Crowley's elbow, pretending not to feel ashamed of their own weakness.   
  
As the two demons crossed the threshold of the shop, Beelzebub froze. A wave of dread suddenly pounded into them without warning. Crowley paused too, sensing the dark disturbance as well.   
  
"Aziraphale, wait," he whispered.  
  
The two angels turned towards their companions. "Crowley, what is it?" Aziraphale asked, a look of concern appearing on his face.  
  
"There's something here."   
  
Crowley scanned the street. Shadows moved in the limited light. His eyes narrowed. Someone, something was in the road.  
  
"Well, well, well. It appears I've caught you just in time for breakfast!"  
  
The figure sauntered slowly toward them. A tall, broad shouldered man, but every one of those assembled could tell he was very much not a human. Crowley made a low growl in his throat.  
  
A werewolf. He had heard stories about these creatures.  
  
Beelzebub was as still as a stone. Only one thought was currently running through their head. _How!? How did this abomination escape from Hell!?_ They never let go of Crowley's arm. In fact their grip only tightened, suddenly remembering their weakened state.  
  
Gabriel stepped forward cautiously, apprehensive of the newcomer. "I'm sorry? Just who are you?"  
  
Fenrir chuckled darkly. "Oh, I'm just an old acquaintance of your little demon friend here. I'm Fenrir. Sorry to bother you all, but we have some catching up to do."  
  
He never stopped his pace towards the bookshop. Crowley could feel Beelzebub's fear. He whispered to Aziraphale, never taking his gaze off the werewolf. "Aziraphale, get Beelzebub to the car."  
  
Aziraphale looked at him. "Crowley, what are yo-"  
  
"As soon as you get the chance, get into the car. It will get you away from here."  
  
Gabriel stood firmly in front of the others, eyes fixed on Fenrir. "You need to _stop_ right where you are."  
  
"Oh, I don't think so," Fenrir said, staring past the angel. "You see, I've waited too long for this."  
  
Gabriel didn't move. "Which is what exactly?"   
  
Fenrir's yellow eyes were set on Beelzebub. "A meal worth savoring."  
  
He lunged. Gabriel braced himself and struck him in the jaw with his fist. When Fenrir failed to go down, he pushed all his weight forward, grappling with the werewolf until he spun around. Gabriel tried holding him in a headlock but was quickly thrown off.

Gabriel was tossed to the ground in the middle of the street. Fenrir charged towards the others. Crowley instantly shoved Beelzebub into Aziraphale and met him with enough force to send the werewolf stumbling back. He was picked up with enormous arms and thrown to the side as well, crashing into Gabriel who had just got back on his feet.

Fenrir continued onward to his prey. Aziraphale tried to block him, throwing his hands forward in a burning burst of light, but Fenrir pushed through it. He tossed the angel aside just like the others and was upon Beelzebub within half a second. He grabbed them by the throat and pushed them against the wall of the shop.

“Here we are now,” he growled lowly, his crooked nose nearly against the other’s. “Did you miss me? Your demonic strength seems to be hiding away. Don’t worry, I’m sure I’ll find it when I devour you.”

Beelzebub’s eyes widened in fear. _He wanted to eat them!_ “W-W-Why…” they choked out.

Fenrir’s hand tightened and Beelzebub struggled against the grip. “Oh, it’s all part of the Deal, my dear,” Fenrir taunted. “You failed miserably. I will become the most powerful being in Hell by consuming you, and I will start the war you could not.”

Fenrir leaned his nose against their neck. Beelzebub shut their eyes in terror. He grinned. “I’ve been watching you ever since you put me away. Don’t worry, you won’t suffer much. Not as long as you let me suffer anyway.”

Crowley gasped as he untangled himself from Gabriel. “Ok! He’s a lot stronger than I originally thought!”

“You think!?” Gabriel said snidely as he picked himself up once again. He summoned his sword, a glistening blade with a gilded hilt, forged to his own liking. He looked at the other angel present on the ground. “Aziraphale! Open your hand!”

Aziraphale stared at him, puzzled, but did as he was told. He felt a sudden weight in his open palm and he looked down to find the black umbrella that Gabriel had entered the shop with earlier. “What am I supposed to do with this?”

Gabriel made a quick motion with his hand. The umbrella materialized into a sword.

“Oh, I see,” said Aziraphale, readying the weapon in his hand.

Gabriel nodded to him. He charged again.

Fenrir bared his pointed teeth at Beelzebub. He opened his mouth as if to bite but a sudden force cut into his shoulder. He swung his arm around to fend off the attacking angel, temporarily losing his grip on Beelzebub as he did so. The demon fell to the ground, gasping for air.

Gabriel was just enough of a nuisance to turn Fenrir away from Beelzebub. He met the angel head on, paring each blow with his bare hands, seemingly unfazed by any strikes the blade made to his flesh. Fenrir grinned darkly at him. “You can’t hurt me with your fancy toys, angel.” He smacked Gabriel to the ground again, the sword clanging loudly on the pavement. Fenrir glowered at him. "But I can certainly hurt you."  
  
Fenrir shook. His body expanded, growing twice the size of his human form. The dirty trenchcoat morphed into thick gray fur. Claws grew on the ends of his already large hands. His head elongated into a typical wolfish visage, his mouth full of menacing teeth.   
  
He hunched down on all fours, staring Gabriel down with glowing yellow eyes. He let loose a snarling roar and he charged at the angel.   
  
The earth and windows around them rattled at the sound. Gabriel quickly picked up his sword and readied himself.

Aziraphale seized his chance and ran over to Beelzebub, helping them to their feet. He held the sword steadily in one hand and guided the small demon over to the Bentley with the other.

Crowley watched as the pair hurried to his car. The werewolf was currently distracted but wouldn’t be for too much longer. Gabriel was managing to hold the monster back, but was not doing sufficient damage to stop him. Crowley knew there was one other way to fight a werewolf in the absence of a silver bullet. He looked to Aziraphale. The angel stared back at him and shook his head in a way that said, “No, don’t do it!” Crowley gazed back at him with a very resounding “Get in the car, Angel.”

To fight a beast, you had to become a beast.

Fenrir smacked the sword away, lifting Gabriel up with one massive arm and slamming him into the pavement. The ground cracked underneath him. Gabriel strained his eyes, dazed at the impact.   
  
Crowley knew it was now or never. He recalled his beastly form into his mind. A black and red reptilian quadruped that was somewhere between serpent and dragon. His humanoid body shifted. A pair of short horns shot out of his scaly head. His fangs enlarged. Ebony wings unfurled, a long plumed tail whipped the ground, and he lept forward on sickle claws. With a guttural screech, he crashed into Fenrir before he could deliver his death blow to the angel.  
  
They rolled in a monstrous ball of black scales and gray fur, teeth flashing and tearing at each other wherever possible. Crowley was only slightly smaller in this form than Fenrir, and he twisted around the werewolf, clawing, kicking, and biting. His tail wrapped around Fenrir's neck, trapping him in a chokehold.  
  
He quickly glanced at Aziraphale who was helping Gabriel over to the car. Beelzebub was already in the backseat. Aziraphale made the archangel get in the passenger side and shut the door, looking back at Crowley hopelessly.  
  
Crowley was losing his grip. He mentally shot words to the angel, _GET IN THE CAR AZIRAPHALE!_  
  
Aziraphale did so, climbing into the driver's seat. The car door shut and the engine roared to life of its own accord. The tires spun as they took grip and the Bentley screamed away.  
  
The sight of his prey escaping filled Fenrir with rage and he violently shook off the demon. Crowley was thrown into wall, a few bricks falling off and pelting him lightly on the head. Fenrir started to give chase to the car, but Crowley lunged forward with a flap of his wings and pulled him back.   
  
In the car, Gabriel was still trying to shake off the blow to his head, and Aziraphale was bracing himself as the car darted down the road. The two swords leaned on the seat between them and clanked together loudly.

Beelzebub watched the fight through the rear window as they slipped away. They watched as Fenrir tried to run after them and then Crowley pulling him back. The Bentley made a sharp turn around a corner, and both Fenrir and Crowley were out of sight.  
  
Crowley bit down hard with his fangs into Fenrir's shoulder, dragging the werewolf along the ground. He tensed every single muscle he had, and swung his neck and body with as much force as he could muster.

Fenrir was thrown rather violently through a coffee shop window, the glass shattering and ringing in thousands of sparkling shards. He shook them off, getting ready to spring out the empty window. As he jumped, a fireball caught him square in the chest and threw him back into the bar counter.   
  
Crowley shot one more flaming blast from his mouth for good measure and turned away. He clambered up the walls of Aziraphale's bookshop, claws scrambling for grip. He left a small trail of blood on the building from freshly open wounds. His wings opened painfully as he reached the roof and he leaped into the air.   
  
Fenrir emerged from the coffee shop, pulling pieces of splintered wood from his fur. He watched the demon fly away and snarled angrily at the brightening sky.  
  
There was an alarm ringing. It had gone off as soon as the shop window had been shattered. He could hear police sirens blaring in the distance in response. His wolf form melted away and he appeared human again. He rolled his shoulders and cracked his neck. It had been a few millennia since he was in a fight like that.  
  
Another figure emerged from the fading shadows on the street and carefully approached him.  
  
"Well, that went rather terribly."  
  
Fenrir glared at Braum, who had been watching from the sidelines, concealed in the darkness.  
  
"No thanks to you," Fenrir growled.  
  
Braum stepped back. "You only asked me to help you find the place. I didn't want to interfere with your, you know, revenge stuff."   
  
The sirens drew closer. Fenrir turned to the bookshop. He went to door and found it still slightly ajar. Braum followed him inside, making sure he kept out of arm's reach.  
  
Among the smell of musty old books, Fenrir could pick out the individual scents of the angels and demons that had been there. He followed the smell of blood to where Beelzebub had been laying.   
  
He spotted an open book sitting on the table next to the demon's bed. He gazed over the page and quietly cursed under his breath.   
  
"What's that?"  
  
Fenrir turned to Braum. "They're going to Stonehenge."  
  
Braum looked at him confused. "Why?"  
  
"It appears they are trying to send your dear Lord Beelzebub back to Hell."  
  
"And they're going to do that at Stonehenge?"  
  
"All they need to do is perform a ritual," Fenrir growled. He began stomping towards the exit.   
  
Braum gave him as much space as he could in the confined quarters, which wasn't very much. "Well, good luck with that then."  
  
Fenrir paused. He turned to the demon. "Of course. I thank you for your services." In a blink, he lashed out with one powerful hand, clawed fingernails tearing Braum's throat. "Although I'm afraid you're no longer of any use to me."  
  
With that, he left, shutting the door behind him. He slipped away without the human policemen outside noticing.   
  
Braum fell backwards into a pile of books, grasping at his bloody neck.

**

Aziraphale held onto whatever he could as the Bentley sped down the road. The steering wheel moved itself, automatically knowing every turn and side road on its own. Aziraphale came to the realization that they were traveling down one of Crowley's usual routes. One he took so often, a trip that he had made thousands of times, that he could practically drive it without even thinking about it. Which was apparently what he was doing right now, or at least what his car was doing.  
  
"Hold on!" Aziraphale yelled at the other two passengers.  
  
Beelzebub braced against the seat in the back. Gabriel gripped at the siding of the door panel.  
  
"Where is this machine taking us!? Can't you control it!?" Gabriel shouted at him, recovered from his fight with Fenrir.  
  
Aziraphale glanced at him. "Firstly, I don't know, and secondly, Crowley is the one driving!"  
  
Aziraphale was thankful to the Almighty that traffic was always light at this hour.   
  
The Bentley made its way out of the city, heading down a road that led to the countryside. The faces of storefronts and residences gradually became trees and open fields. Aziraphale felt the gears shift and the Bentley began lowering its speed.  
  
Up above, Crowley followed his car's path until he caught sight of it glimmering in the sunrise. He flew over it, descending about a mile ahead on the road. His landing was quite ungraceful, his limbs tired and sore.  
  
The Bentley came to a full stop directly in front of him. Aziraphale immediately got out and ran to him as he picked himself off the pavement. His black scales and feathers faded back into his standard human form.   
  
"Crowley! Are you alright?" Aziraphale helped him up.  
  
"I'm fine...you should have seen...the other guy," Crowley grinned as he tried to catch his breath. He let Aziraphale support his weight, keeping one arm draped over the angel's shoulders.   
  
Gabriel and Beelzebub also stepped out.  
  
Gabriel looked him over. The demon's clothing was torn and bloodstained. "Where is the werewolf?"  
  
Crowley squinted at him, partly because the rising sun was in his face and partly because he really wished he could have a nap right now instead of deal with the archangel. "He's back in Soho, under some coffee grains."  
  
Beelzebub appeared beside Gabriel. "Is he dead?"  
  
Crowley frowned at them. "Lord Beelzebub, you and I both know there's only one thing that can kill a werewolf..."  
  
"A silver bullet forged in Heaven," Gabriel answered.   
  
Crowley pointed at him with a bruised finger. "Right! And those don't seem to exist anymore. Went extinct with all the other werewolves, if I remember. Which is why the best thing to do is to keep going west and get Lord Beelzebub to Stonehenge before that monster catches up. Now, come on!"  
  
He stepped away from Aziraphale and limped over to the driver's side. He gave the Bentley a pat on its black hood, saying "good car," as he gripped the door.

Everyone followed after him. Crowley assumed his normal position as driver with Aziraphale next to him, Gabriel and Beelzebub in the back. He pulled onto the road and headed west.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is where this story becomes a slight crossover with Lucifer on Netflix (which I love, btw). Though, not by much. Just a few cameos. :)

Fenrir stalked between rows of empty warehouses.

He moved briskly, each step heavy and with a purpose. His mood had turned foul as the sun rose higher. An angry sneer was plastered on his face. Everything removed itself quickly from his path as he went by. Birds, rats, and even cockroaches hurried out of the way as he stomped up to a rundown, decrepit building.

The large bay doors of the warehouse had long since fallen off. Metal paneling was drooping over the frame like teeth, twisting gently in the morning breeze. From afar, it looked like one would be eaten by the structure if they clumsily wandered too close.  
  
Fenrir went through its gaping mouth. Two figures waited for him inside. An extremely well-dressed man and a not-quite-as-fancily-dressed woman. They stood at the center of the large empty space. Any sunlight that penetrated through the old roof was instantly swallowed by the well of darkness that surrounded them.  
  
"Well, don't you look a little worse for wear this morning? Or, actually, my mistake, that's how you always look!" said the man. He smirked at Fenrir.  
  
"Lord Lucifer," Fenrir greeted respectfully, but the sneer on his face remained in place.  
  
Lucifer, Lord of Hell Himself, looked Fenrir over closely. "Ah, so formal. Did whoever you get into a scrap with knock something loose? You were a lot more lively last time I saw you."  
  
"Which is why I'm here," Fenrir growled, stepping forward.  
  
The woman standing next to Lucifer moved as well. "Watch it."  
  
Lucifer grinned. "Easy Maze, can't you see he's had a rough morning? Oh, this is Mazikeen by the way, she loosened the locks on your cage. So I would be most grateful to her if I were you."  
  
"I'm not concerned about your demon bodyguard," Fenrir said, glaring at Mazikeen. "I'm concerned about the demon you promised me!"  
  
"Well, that demon has been sent to Earth as agreed. It's not my fault you cannot find them," Lucifer said, a smug grin on his face.  
  
"Oh, I found them. The problem is others also did, before me!"  
  
Lucifer leered forward as if mocking him. "As I recall, the exact time and location of Beelzebub's drop off was never part of our Deal. So, again, not my fault."  
  
Fenrir growled. "I promised you a war, and you promised me that demon's soul so I could start it. Now, that demon is loose, being guarded by angels. What kind of game are you playing at!?"  
  
"The only one I know, my dear furry friend," Lucifer narrowed his eyes. "Perhaps I overestimated your ability to do this task as you are. Maybe you need a little assistance. That's why you're here, right? Poor little Fenrir needs some help?"  
  
Fenrir snarled angrily. "If you want your war, you will make sure that demon is mine!"  
  
Lucifer tilted his head, considering Fenrir carefully. "Hmm, you need something with a little bit of spunk." He suddenly clapped his hands together. "Oh I got it! Zombie powers! That's what you need!"  
  
Fenrir made a face. "What?"  
  
"You know!" Lucifer went on excitedly. "Zombie powers! You bite someone and they turn into a hideous manifestation of the undead, bent to your will?"  
  
He looked at Mazikeen. She rolled her eyes.  
  
Fenrir waved his arms, exasperated. "What am I going to do with that?"  
  
"Oh, I'm sure you'll think of something! Use your imagination!" Lucifer snapped his fingers on one hand. "There, done. Now, if I were you, I’d start running after Ol' Beelzebub before they leave in you the dust. They are quite a wily one, after all."  
  
Fenrir grinned darkly at him and turned to leave. He walked out of the dark warehouse and disappeared in the light of the morning.  
  
The pair watched him go.  
  
"Do you really think this is going to work?" Mazikeen asked. She tossed her head to the side. Lucifer could see her skeptical look.  
  
"That's all part of the game, dear Maze. It makes it fun!" Lucifer adjusted his jacket, checking his watch. "Now let's go. There's that club down the street that looked rather interesting."  
  
Mazikeen chased after him. "It's too early, Lucifer. It was closed!"  
  
Lucifer maintained his cocky stride. "It won't be when I get there."

**  
  
Aziraphale tended to Crowley's wounds as he drove. He motioned his hands slowly over the demon, willing the flesh to heal and mending the clothing where needed.  
  
Their destination was only a few hours away. Crowley drove steadily. Aziraphale was impressed he maintained the speed limit but not surprised. After the fight he had, Crowley surely needed to let his mind and body rest.

Gabriel and Beelzebub sat in the back of the Bentley, uncomfortably close to each other given the limited space. They both sat with their arms crossed, refusing to make eye contact.

"There's going to be people there, you know," Crowley muttered to Aziraphale.  
  
"People?" asked Gabriel.  
  
"It's Stonehenge," Crowley continued. "It's a popular tourist spot. The humans are fascinated with it."  
  
"Is this going to be a problem?" Beelzebub said, deadpan.  
  
"It won't, actually," Aziraphale offered.  
  
Crowley looked at him. "It won't?"  
  
Aziraphale hesitated. "We have to wait until nightfall."  
  
_"WHAT?"_  
  
Aziraphale was unsure who responded first, so he spoke to the dashboard instead. "In order for the ritual to be the most effective, it needs to be performed during the witching hour."  
  
Crowley stared at him. "And you didn't think to mention this beforehand?"  
  
"Well, I was! But everyone got a little preoccupied!"  
  
Beelzebub leaned forward angrily. "There's a monster that is trying to eat me, and now I have to wait around all day to get my powers back!?"  
  
Aziraphale tried not to appear flustered. "There's a small town outside of Stonehenge. We'll lay low there until the time comes."  
  
Crowley raised an eyebrow as he peered into the rearview mirror. "Why does Fenrir want to eat you, Lord Beelzebub? I mean, who just goes around, eating people?"  
  
"He seeks revenge on me for the sentence I gave him."  
  
"By _eating_ you?" Crowley said incredulously.  
  
Aziraphale turned to Beelzebub. "I have to say, that seems a little extreme for someone just doing their job, especially when that job is to judge the damned."  
  
Gabriel nodded. "I have to agree here."  
  
Beelzebub gazed out the window at the passing scenery. "He wishes to acquire demonic powers...and take my place in Hell."  
  
Crowley muttered, "I...had no idea it worked like that."  
  
Gabriel regarded Beelzebub closely. A particular thought was bothering him. "If you gave Fenrir a sentence, that means he was already in Hell. How did he escape?"  
  
"I don't know," Beelzebub said quietly.  
  
"Inside job, I'm telling you," Crowley said. He waved one hand around in the air dramatically. "This whole exile thing and now there's a particularly nasty werewolf with a taste for demon flesh running around...someone is trying to get rid of you, Lord Beelzebub."  
  
Beelzebub was silent. They recalled what Fenrir had said as they were pinned against the wall._ “It’s all part of the Deal…” _

A deal. Beelzebub knew only one person that would willingly cut a deal with a prisoner of Hell if it meant something was to be gained out of it. Lucifer had been very disappointed that there was no war coming, not to mention being disowned by the Antichrist.

Crowley's words were exactly on point. It's why Beelzebub, dare say, almost liked Crowley. He could always see the bigger picture.  
  
Everything made sense to them now. Being accused of failing to start the Apocalypse, Fenrir escaping, and....

… And being tortured and weakened, a banishment seal slapped on their head, sucking their power away. They had purposely been made an easy target for Fenrir. Beelzebub grimaced.

Lucifer, _their friend_, had traded them for the war with Heaven_._ The war that Lucifer and Beelzebub were supposed to fight together, alongside each other.  
  
Crowley was right. Crowley was always right.  
  
Beelzebub gripped the seat, fingernails digging into the cushions. Their teeth ground against each other as a silent rage boiled inside them. The mark on their head glowed as if attempting to hold back whatever was about to come up.  
  
Everyone in the car could feel it. Gabriel instinctively leaned away from Beelzebub. They eyes were shut tight and they suddenly grasped at their head, rocking back and forth as if trying to shake off a bad dream.  
  
Aziraphale turned to Crowley. "Um, perhaps you should pull over."  
  
Crowley did, stopping along an open pasture of green grass. He stepped out and moved the seat up to let Beelzebub out. As soon as they exited, whatever dark cloud that swirled around them in the car followed them as they took off into the field.  
  
Beelzebub ran until their legs gave out and they sunk to the ground on their knees. They threw their head back to the morning sky and let out a wail so painful, every living thing in a ten mile radius was hit with a shockwave of foreboding.  
  
The air trembled and the ground shook as Beelzebub howled. The duality in their voice caused every tree, shrub, and blade of grass to tilt away in fear.  
  
Crowley, Aziraphale, and Gabriel watched quietly from the roadside. None of them knew what to make of the display. It was very uncharacteristic of the former Prince of Hell to show such an outrageous burst of emotion.  
  
Beelzebub's voice started to give out and eventually ended in a raspy cry. The seal smoked and glowed like embers in a fire pit. Beelzebub slumped forward and remained there, quiet.  
  
This was their reality now. Screaming pitifully in a field somewhere on Earth. They had been cast out of Heaven, and now it seemed Hell didn't want them anymore either. Death was coming for them. All because they couldn't achieve one simple task.  
  
They truly were a failure.  
  
Aziraphale, along with the others, was blasted by the emotion emanating from the small form in the field. He couldn't help but feel some sort of sympathy for Beelzebub. He was an angel, after all.  
  
He stepped into the field. Crowley soon followed after him. They cautiously approached Beelzebub kneeling in the grass, coming to stand on either side of the demon. Beelzebub ignored them, sitting with their shoulders slouched and staring blankly into space.  
  
Aziraphale and Crowley kneeled down next to them. The angel and demon pair offered their silent support to Beelzebub.  
  
Gabriel softly walked up behind the three, standing in place, casting a calm shadow over Beelzebub’s form.  
  
Aziraphale reached his hand out. "Come now, my dear. We really should keep moving."  
  
"What for?" Beelzebub said. "I failed at my purpose. There's no point in going back."  
  
Crowley put out his hand as well. "You need your strength back. No one here wants to see you get eaten."  
  
"We're not going to let that monster have you," Aziraphale said softly.  
  
Beelzebub lifted their head and looked at both of them, confused. "But, why? I called you a traitor in front of all of the others."  
  
Crowley shrugged. "It would be the right thing for me to do. If Hell is against you, then me helping you regain power would still be considered traitorous." He smiled, "I've got to keep up my street cred, you know."  
  
"That goes for me too, right Gabriel?" Aziraphale said, smirking at the other angel. "If I'm considered just as traitorous to Heaven, then me helping a demon would be expected!"  
  
Gabriel said nothing and just shook his head. Aziraphale wasn't sure if it was in disappointment or agreement. It didn't matter. Aziraphale had to keep his street cred too.  
  
"See?" Crowley continued. "You've got us here, on your side. You got me, you got Aziraphale...you even got Gabriel! I mean, he could have zapped himself back to Heaven ages ago, and he's still here!"  
  
Beelzebub glanced over their shoulder at Gabriel. Crowley smiled devilishly at the archangel.  
  
Gabriel glared at Crowley. "I told you, I'm here for observation!" He then looked at Beelzebub softly. "Though, I will offer my services where I can."  
  
"See, there you have it!" Crowley exclaimed, waving his arms around. "Two angels and two demons against Heaven and Hell!"  
  
"And a werewolf," Aziraphale added.  
  
"And a werewolf!" Crowley repeated.

The smallest ion of a smile twisted at the corner of Beelzebub’s mouth.


	6. Chapter 6

The Silver City of Heaven was a sight to behold. Serene, calm, beautiful, majestic. The view from the head office always lifted Roziel's spirits, assured him in his heart that he was on the correct side of the natural order. It kept him steadfast and strong, unwavering in his duties.  
  
Except for right this moment. Now he was wavering.  
  
He paced back and forth in front of the huge panoramic window, the awe of the glistening towers outside temporarily forgotten. His father hadn't returned and had not sent any word back on the situation. This would not normally bother Roziel. He was used to his father working all the time and being sent on missions where radio silence was important. But this was different. Roziel could feel it inside him somewhere. He wasn't sure exactly what part of his Earthly body was responsible for the feeling, but he knew it was there.  
  
Also, there had been talk. Roziel had accidentally managed to eavesdrop on some other angels whispering things about Hell and werewolves and starting the war again.  
  
Roziel had been keen enough to disappear quickly after that, make himself unnoticeable and unimportant as he roamed around the head office. It wasn't unusual to see him there, he was in training after all. However, with all the strange talk floating around in the air, he thought it better to remain invisible. Especially after what he had witnessed on Earth.  
  
He assumed his father had not included him in his reports, otherwise he was sure he would have been bombarded with questions by now.  
  
He wrung his hands together, a habit that was natural for him. He was good with his hands. He was highly skilled with a sword and even better with a bow. His hands always needed to be doing something, it seemed. Right now, they were keeping busy channeling his anxiety.  
  
Roziel was worried. He was afraid for the first time in his life. What if there really was a werewolf on Earth? What if something had happened to his father, or was going to happen?  
  
Roziel had to do something. He had to at least try to reach his father. He knew how to get to Earth. His father had shown him how to do it. But he needed to find some way to assist him. Information on what they may just dealing with.  
  
Roziel recalled the old stories he used to hear about werewolves as a fledgling. He was certain they were full of exaggeration meant to scare the younger angels. He needed something more accurate. There were records. Paperwork had been his expertise while he spent his early years as a low level file clerk. He knew exactly where to find what he wanted.  
  
He quickly made his way to the filing stations on the lower floors, avoiding anyone he could on his way there.  
  
The filing room of the head office was vast and almost unending. It contained reports, documents, footnotes and sticky notes of every major event on Earth and in the Cosmos arranged in meticulous order. Walking through the doors from the elevator was like walking into infinity, except infinity was made out of fluorescent lights and filing cabinets.

Roziel knew the system well. A small computer station near the entrance would lead him to the right file. He looked up key terms, cross-referenced, double-checked, and then checked again, and then quickly made his way across the sea of metal organization columns. He found the correct cabinet and flipped through the drawer. He came upon an old, torn up folder that looked like it had seen better days.  
  
An entire report on werewolves.

Roziel sat on the floor with the file and poured over its contents.

The werewolves were monsters born from humans that played a little too carelessly with dark magic and evil spirits. Though their bite did not affect ethereal and occult beings the same way it did humans, they could still hold their own in a fight with angels and demons, and potentially cause a fair amount of injury. The creatures terrorized Earth for a time, until Divine Intervention was authorized to stop the spread of the beasts before they turned into a monstrous plague.

Bullets made in the forges of Heaven, molded from the purest, holiest silver, were carefully seeded among human populations. That was what finally ended the creatures' reign.  
  
There were no more silver bullets placed on Earth once the werewolves were gone. Heaven had saw fit to discontinue the production of them long ago.  
  
Although, Roziel noticed something in the forge's record sheet.  
  
It listed every bullet ever made, where each bullet had ended up on Earth, and the movements it made. Once they had served their purpose, they were marked off as destroyed, as each bullet automatically disintegrated once piercing the flesh of a werewolf. All of them had been checked off and accounted for, except for one.  
  
Roziel looked at its location. A tiny bit of anxiety dissipated from his insides. The bullet had been placed in London several centuries ago, in the general vicinity of the Witchfinder Army headquarters, what ever that was. It hadn't been moved since.  
  
Roziel shut the file and placed it back where it belonged. He could work with this information. Now, he just needed to reach his father.  
  
**  
  
The streets of Soho were busy now that the sun was out. Roziel had never seen so many humans in one place. They were all going about their various business, completely unaware of the celestial being that walked among them.  
  
He remembered the location of Aziraphale's bookshop. However, his teleportation was off. He ended up a few blocks away in a dirty alleyway. It was dark and it smelled unpleasant. At least he landed in the general area. It wasn't bad for being only his second trip to Earth, he thought.  
  
He waded through the crowds of people and came upon a familiar street. Roziel strolled up the sidewalk, hands in the pockets of the dark green jacket he wore. He also had on a garment called blue jeans. He didn't understand the term, except for the blue part. His father had always told him it was important to blend in seamlessly while roaming around Earth. From what Roziel had gathered in his research, this was the popular attire of the young folk here. He liked it. It was comfortable.  
  
As he walked up to the bookshop, he felt the air around it turn heavy. He paused for a moment and studied the surroundings. Something had happened here. His peripheral senses noticed remnants of a disturbance in the street, a fight, it felt like. There was also something big and aggressive that had been there, but was now gone.  
  
Roziel turned to the door of the bookshop. It was shut, locked, but he willed it to open for him. He stepped inside and found it empty. He felt around the interior. He could see his father, Aziraphale, the two demons...no...three demons, and another that matched the big threatening presence he'd felt outside.  
  
It was not human, angel, or demon, or even animal. It was something else entirely. Something old and evil. It was the werewolf creature. A monster.  
  
So it was all true then.

Had his father been the one to fight the werewolf out in the street? What happened to him? Where had he and the others gone?

His hands clutched at the fabric of his jacket. He frowned as a whole new wave of worry started seeping into him.  
  
Suddenly, a shadow pricked at Roziel's senses, pulling him away from the negative thoughts crawling in his head. It whispered in his ear, brushed against his hair and skin. He focused his attention on it.  
  
It was a demon's life energy. The third unknown one. It was still here!  
  
Roziel looked around, searching for its body. "Hello?" he called out. "I know you're here!"  
  
There was a tiny noise near the floor. Roziel stepped over to a messy pile of books. He tossed a good number of them aside until he uncovered what looked a human male. Roziel was taken aback.  
  
Its red eyes gazed up at the ceiling in a dead stare. Dark crimson blood ran from its neck. It made a wet gurgling sound as air struggled to move in and out of the lungs.  
  
Roziel's mind raced a thousand miles a minute. This demon's throat was slashed but not deep enough to kill its physical body. It was holding on by a thread. It was stuck in a half state of being alive and discorporation. If it died here, Roziel may not find out what happened to his father and the others. This demon was his only lead.  
  
Roziel drew in a deep breath and tried to calm his mind. He put his hands in front of him and willed them to stop shaking. Healing was easy once you got a few practice runs in. Roziel had lots of practice. But, it was one thing to do it in a training exercise and another thing entirely to do it in a real life situation, especially with an occult creature.  
  
"I can do this, I can do this," he murmured to himself as his hands glided over the demon's open neck.  
  
The blood withdrew into the veins and the flesh stitched itself together. The claw marks disappeared as the skin flexed back into place, unbroken.  
  
The demon sucked in a breath as his eyes blinked back to life. Roziel let out a deep sigh of relief.  
  
Braum gasped, his chest heaving. He could breathe fully again. Awareness flooded back to him and he realized he was laying on the ground. His hands touched gently at his neck when he remembered why he had ended up on the ground. The wounds were gone. Miraculously healed.  
  
Someone was next to him and he lopped his head to the side.  
  
The light fixture on the ceiling that was placed conveniently behind Roziel's head intensified his halo. It was almost too bright for Braum to focus in on the angel's face. He could see the eyes though. They were a strikingly bright green. Braum stared into them in awed fascination. They were beautiful...  
  
Roziel only stared back awkwardly, unsure of what to do.  
  
Braum blinked, turning away in what may have been embarrassment. "Thanks," he muttered.  
  
Roziel moved to give the demon some space as he tried to get up. "You're welcome," he replied softly.  
  
Braum slowly got back on his feet, grunting a little as he assumed his full height. He used one hand to lean on a chair for support while he regained his balance.  
  
"Demon, can you tell me what happened here?"  
  
Braum looked at him, curious. "Yeah, I got my throat slashed by a werewolf," he said. "And it's Braum."  
  
Roziel frowned. "The werewolf's name is Braum? Where did he go?"  
  
Braum growled in annoyance. The little bat on his head squeaked and stretched its wings in agreement. "No, I'm Braum, you moron! And I think he's going to Stonehenge."  
  
Roziel ignored the insult for now. He just needed to know what was going on. He was also out of his element here, healing and dealing with random demons...  
  
"Can you show me which way that is? I need to get to him as soon as possible!"  
  
Braum glanced over his shoulder as he sauntered towards the door. "Why would you want to run head on into that monster?"  
  
"I need to find out what happened to my father and he will be the one who knows. I could feel the fight outside."  
  
Braum sighed. "You're only going to get yourself discorporated just like he almost did me. Go back to Heaven and let someone else worry about it."  
  
With that, he turned to open the door. Roziel stepped ahead of him and blocked the exit.  
  
He stared at the demon. He was slightly shorter, but that didn't intimidate him.  
  
Roziel spoke firmly. "I am the one who is worried. In fact, I am the only one from Heaven who is worrying right now. Something sinister is going on and I need to find my father before it's too late!"  
  
Braum's face scrunched up. "I can't believe you just used the word 'sinister'..."  
  
Roziel remained undeterred. He took a step closer. "I saved you when I didn't have to. You owe it to me."  
  
There were those eyes again. Braum's resolve cracked by a hairline. He sighed once more. "Fine, ok, whatever! I'll help you, but once you find out the information you need, I'm gone. You got it?"  
  
"Deal then." Roziel stuck out his hand. He had heard this was what humans did when they made an agreement.  
  
Braum stared at him for a moment. So odd, he thought. He gingerly took the angel's hand and they shook. "Sooo, what do we do now?"  
  
Roziel opened the door and stepped outside. "You said the werewolf is going to Stonehenge, so we need to go there as well."  
  
Braum hesitated before stepping into the light. He did not like the daytime. It was too bright. His bat curled into its wings and tucked itself into his hair, hiding from the sun as he followed the angel. "And what's going to happen when we catch up with him? You can't just walk up to him and ask him where your dad is! At least not if you plan on being eviscerated."  
  
"There may be a way to fight him. I found records of a missing silver bullet here in London," Roziel replied, walking ahead of the demon.  
  
"I thought those didn't exist anymore," Braum said, trying to catch up and not bump into anyone in the crowded street. "Are you certain there's one here?"  
  
"The records don't lie. They're always accurate. It was left somewhere near the Witchfinder Army headquarters. We will find it and take it with us for insurance."  
  
"You're serious? The Witchfinder Army?"  
  
Roziel stopped and turned to look at him. "You know where it is?"  
  
"Unfortunately, yes."  
  
**  
  
Braum guided Roziel through the streets of London to a small apartment building. A white moving truck was parked outside. Roziel had been expecting something a little more extravagant for a place that had the word ‘headquarters’ attached to it. He didn't think he would ever fully understand humans.  
  
"This is it?" the angel asked, looking up at the old brick and mortar walls.  
  
"Yep," grunted Braum as he rang the bell.  
  
A human woman answered the door. Roziel was surprised by how colorful she was dressed.  
  
She studied them for a second before speaking. "Oh, my dears, I'm afraid Madame Tracy no longer draws back the veil. I'm retiring, you see."  
  
Roziel had no idea what she was talking about. What veil? No, he did not understand humans at all, he conceded. Luckily Braum did the talking for him.  
  
"Sorry to bother you miss, but we are actually here to speak with the Witchfinders," he said politely. He spoke in a cordial tone Roziel hadn't thought the demon was capable of.  
  
"Oh, you're friends of Mr. Shadwell! Here to see him off are you? Well come in then!"  
  
She opened the door enough to let them pass. She led them up a small stairway and tapped on a door that was directly opposite another. Roziel peered into the other room while they waited. It was stacked full of brown boxes with numerous labels marking each one.  
  
"You made it just in time," the woman said. "We're leaving town tomorrow morning!"  
  
"Aye woman! Don't ye know I'm trying to finish packing here!" came a gruff voice from behind the other door as the locks turned.  
  
They were greeted by a man with white hair and a frown upon his face. He stared at them curiously.  
  
"You have some last minute visitors, Mr. Shadwell," Madame Tracy told him nicely as she disappeared into the other room.  
  
"What do you want?" the man asked them suspiciously when she was gone.  
  
Braum clasped his hands together and smiled. "Forgive the intrusion, Mr. Shadwell, but I am an associate of Mr. Crowley if you recall? We were just hoping you may still have a certain item in your possession that we are looking for."  
  
There was that charming voice again. Roziel was beginning to question his preconceptions of demons in general. He never imagined one of them being so _nice_.  
  
Mr. Shadwell motioned them into his apartment. This room was just like the other, boxes stacked in piles everywhere. "Mr. Crowley's been very generous in the past, I s'pose I might be able to help you. What’s it you're looking for?"  
  
Roziel found his chance to speak up. "We believe a genuine silver bullet was left with this organization a long time ago. Do you know where it is or what has happened to it?"  
  
"Silver bullet?" Mr. Shadwell said, his brow furrowed. "Aye, I got one of those. You lot aren't hunting werewolves now, are you?"  
  
Roziel stepped forward. "Yes, you see there's-"  
  
Braum cut him off before he could say anymore. "We were just hoping we could perhaps take it off your hands? It's..." he struggled for a bit, "it's a family heirloom, if you will."  
  
Mr. Shadwell considered them for a moment. Braum could see the gears turning in his head. He only offered a friendly smile back to the human.  
  
"How much ya got?"  
  
Braum's smile faltered. _Of course_. He looked at Roziel. He could smell the concern wafting from the green eyes. He grit his teeth. "I have 50 pounds I can give you right now for it."  
  
"50? For a genuine silver bullet brought down from the Heavens to smite evil beasts from God's Green Earth?" He smirked at the unusual duo. "I'll take it."  
  
Braum was thankful for the stupidity of humans sometimes. He rolled his eyes and reached into his suit jacket, pulling out a billfold.  
  
Mr. Shadwell shrugged as he was handed the money. "Aye, it will be one less thing to pack. Ms. Tracy over there says the less there is to take the better."  
  
Roziel smiled at him. "Thank you so much, Mr. Shadwell. Um, where is the bullet located?"  
  
"Aye, wait one minute." He disappeared into another room. They could hear him ruffling through boxes and various packages, grumbling to himself. He came back after awhile with a small black box in his hands.  
  
He presented it to Roziel. "Here it is," he said slowly, as if handing over the Holy Grail itself.  
  
Roziel took it from him and opened the box. Inside was the bullet nestled in a velvet lining. It was sleek and brilliant, made from the holiest silver in the universe.  
  
Roziel gazed at it, a glimmer of hope reflecting on his face. "This is it, the real thing! The missing bullet!" He closed the box and stowed it away in his jacket.  
  
Braum shook his head and grabbed Roziel by the arm. "Well, this has all been very helpful to our endeavor, but the hour is late I'm afraid." He pulled Roziel towards the exit before Mr. Shadwell could change his mind.  
  
Roziel freed himself and turned to the human before stepping out. "Thank you again, Mr. Shadwell."  
  
Mr. Shadwell let out a sigh. "Look, lad," he started, his gruff voice taking on a more serious tone. "The Witchfinder Army never had much use for that little thing. Werewolves weren't really our specialty, you see. But I can tell you this," he lifted one finger in the air between them, "you get one shot, straight to the heart. One shot only. So you better make it count."  
  
Roziel nodded his head in understanding. "Yes sir."  
  
Mr. Shadwell grinned at him. "Hold on right there a minute." He stepped to the side of the doorframe. Roziel watched him dig through an open box at the top of a messy pile.  
  
He came back with a small metallic object in his hand. "This here is your bow to the arrow of righteousness. It was made by General Thou-Shall-Not-Commit-Adultery Pulsifer. A mini version of the Thundergun, if you will."  
  
It was a dark-colored, primitive pistol, bearing an almost comically large funnel at the end of the barrel.  
  
Roziel took the small, strange looking weapon, giving his regards to the human as he followed Braum out to the street.


	7. Chapter 7

The wind rushed over Fenrir, billowing his thick fur, as he galloped across the land. He was fast as a wolf. His stamina could last for a hundred miles in this form. He would catch up to his prey before they could be restored, easily.  
  
He stayed a distance away from the main road he was following. He didn't want to risk anymore useless distractions or delays. The sun was gliding just past midday and Fenrir estimated he could make it to Stonehenge well before the witching hour arrived.   
  
He was just beyond the outskirts of London, moving into the countryside, when he came across a farmhouse. Fenrir slowed to a quiet stalk as he approached the house and the barn that stood next to it. He could smell and hear children in the human dwelling but nothing resembling adults. He moved like a giant predator, the tiny humans occupying the property completely unaware of his presence just outside their walls. He lifted his head to glance into the kitchen window.  
  
No distractions, he reminded himself as he licked his jaw. He crept along, silently passing in front of the barn.   
  
Two large dogs barked. They appeared from the barn doors, yapping at him. He growled, barring his gigantic teeth. They stopped and whimpered in fear. Fenrir waited. His ears twisted, listening for movement.   
  
No humans in the house seemed to be concerned about a possible intruder. He continued on. The two dogs watched him, quivering against each other. He gave them a threatening stare, daring them to challenge him. He stopped. An idea hit him.   
  
He stood on his back legs, his fur transforming into his coat as he took his human form. He approached the dogs and knelt down in front of them, still showing his pointed teeth in a wicked smile.  
  
"You're such loyal creatures, aren't you? I wonder if you would be just as loyal to me?"  
  
He reached one clawed finger out, sticking a dog on the head between the eyes. It shook and snarled as its body shifted, becoming stronger, invincible, and vicious. Fenrir did the same to the other. They were now under Fenrir's spell, made to do his bidding, loyal members of a new pack.  
  
"That's much better," Fenrir said to himself, pleased. Lucifer's "zombie powers" trick, or whatever it was supposed to be, came in handy after all, he mused. "Now, you have a job to do. You're going to follow me to Stonehenge, and I expect you to find more like yourselves along the way. Convert every mutt you come across. We're going to battle and I need an army."  
  
The two "zombie" dogs growled obediently.  
  
Fenrir was about to stand back up when he heard a mewling sound. He looked past the dogs at a lean gray tabby cat that had emerged from the barn. It sat there, watching him with interest.   
  
Fenrir shrugged. "I guess my army doesn't have to be all dogs..."  
  
He reached forward, placing the same clawed finger to the cat's head. The cat shook and snarled, exactly as its canine companions did, and it stared back at Fenrir with dark, obedient eyes.   
  
It then proceeded to hiss and swat at his finger.  
  
"Gah!" Fenrir cried, ripping his hand away. There was a sickle shaped cut on his finger. “Infernal little monster," he muttered.   
  
The cat just licked at its paw, purring shamelessly.   
  
"Fine! Be that way." Fenrir stood up. He took on his wolf form once more. He dashed away from the barn in a leap, his dog servants chasing after him.   
  
The cat followed at its own particular pace, tail happily high in the air.

**

The Bentley sped down the highway, gliding effortlessly between traffic. Crowley and Aziraphale's little pep talk earlier had worked. They convinced Beelzebub to continue onwards to Stonehenge and have the seal removed. All four occupants of the car were silent as the countryside rolled by, the air around them heavy with their task at hand.  
  
Crowley glanced into the rearview mirror. Beelzebub had dozed off several miles ago. Their head lopped onto Gabriel's arm, leaning against him in a deep slumber. The archangel appeared quite unsure of what to do in this predicament.   
  
The image caused a smirk to twist at Crowley's lips. Though it faded fairly quickly. "We should probably find Beelzebub something to eat. Re-energize them a bit," he said to Aziraphale.  
  
Aziraphale nodded, peering over his shoulder into the backseat. "Yes, I imagine all that screaming earlier really took it out of them. Amesbury should be coming up soon."  
  
Indeed, soon the shape of rooftops and church spires formed on the horizon to greet them into the town of Amesbury. Crowley pulled off the highway and drove slowly down the main street. Locals and tourists alike were happily milling about. Stonehenge was only miles away and the town was bustling with those there solely for the main attraction.   
  
Aziraphale spotted a cozy little restaurant with a rose garden situated behind it and told Crowley, "Let's try that one!"  
  
Crowley looped around, pretending not to notice the "We Have Crepes!" sign posted in the window of the business. He loved how Aziraphale was so predictable when it came to certain human foods.  
  
He parked across the street from the cafe and his passengers dismounted. He gently stirred Beelzebub from their sleep, helping them out of the car as they shook off the haze. His senses remained primed, ready to detect any malicious stranger or shadow that might try to approach them.  
  
Aziraphale led them through the door of cafe. A polite waitress showed them to a table. Aziraphale instantly ordered a round of crepes and tea to start, and told the human they would decide on other items from the menu later.  
  
Aziraphale and Crowley sat together on one side of the table with Gabriel and Beelzebub on the other. Crowley and Gabriel glowered into their respective tea cups while Aziraphale was excitedly explaining the different varieties and flavors of the pastry dish in front of them and all the things you could do with it.   
  
Beelzebub picked at the food hungrily, almost matching Aziraphale bite for bite. Though, the angel was a bit more careful with table manners. Beelzebub was just desperate to get some kind of energy back into their body.   
  
Crowley sipped at his tea as the waitress brought another round of food. Gabriel's remained untouched and he waved her off politely when she asked if he would prefer something else.   
  
"Why don't you try it?" Crowley asked. He wasn't baiting or trying to insult the archangel. He was genuinely curious.  
  
Gabriel glared at him. "I don't need it. And it is disgusting organic matter that's been crawling around on Earth since it came into existence."  
  
"But it does taste good," Crowley countered. "If you don't need it as a necessity, then enjoy it as a pleasure. Make it an indulgence."  
  
"I'm not here to let you tempt me, demon."  
  
"Oh, stop going on about that already!" Crowley exclaimed. "All this stuff about demons always tempting and angels righting everything. It shouldn't matter anymore if you ask me."  
  
Gabriel's eyes narrowed at him. "And why not?"  
  
"Because the world ended already!"  
  
Everyone at the table looked at him, curious.   
  
"Ended?" Beelzebub asked after swallowing a mouthful. "But there was no war."  
  
Crowley continued on. "There wasn't a need for a war. It ended anyway. Adam reset everything anew after he sort of made a mess of things. Everything appeared to be the same but was just slightly different in some ways. The rainforests are greener, the oceans are fuller. It's a new kind of world."  
  
He shrugged and sipped at his tea. Everyone was silent as they processed this information. Crowley wasn't wrong.  
  
Aziraphale spoke up first. "I guess that's one way to look at it. We can think of it as the start of a new age in history!"  
  
"Which makes it all the more important that we get that thing off your head, Lord Beelzebub," Crowley said. "You didn't deserve any of this."  
  
"Well, except maybe the crepes," offered Aziraphale. "I say they've come a long way and they deserve something tasty as a reward."  
  
"I do like them," Beelzebub replied, looking Gabriel straight in the eye as they took a vicious bite.   
  
Gabriel stared at them indignantly. A small noise buzzed past his ear. He looked down at the table as a tiny black insect landed near his hand. _Dirty little Earth creature_, he thought. He instinctively moved his hand to squash it.   
  
Beelzebub caught sight of the fly and intervened at lightning speed. "No!"  
  
Gabriel froze, his hand knocked away by Beelzebub's arm. Aziraphale and Crowley watched in stunned fascination.  
  
Beelzebub laid their hand flat on the table and the tiny fly crawled onto it obediently. "Gregory!" Beelzebub breathed out in something of relief and surprise.  
  
Crowley raised an eyebrow. "Gregory?"   
  
Beelzebub nodded, never taking their eyes off the fly. It crawled lightly on their hand, stopping and rubbing its forelegs together in a manner that only flies can do.  
  
Crowley still couldn't believe it. "That's Gregory? You named your flies?"  
  
Beelzebub nodded again.  
  
Crowley’s eye twitched. "And you know each one just by looking at them?"  
  
The fly disappeared up Beelzebub's sleeve, safely tucked away from any oppressing hands or fly swatters for the time being. There was a very rare smile on Beelzebub's face. One of their flies had reappeared. Their strength was coming back.

Crowley frowned into his tea as he tried to mentally count all the flies he’d seen buzzing around Beelzebub’s head, and wondered what all their names could possibly be.  
  
"Well," Aziraphale started, trying to break the awkward tension. "Perhaps maybe one day, you'll find something you would like to experiment with, Gabriel. It is a new world after all. I bet even Roziel will want to try human food."  
  
"No, he won't," Gabriel stated firmly. "He knows very well how unsanitary it is."  
  
"Who's Roziel?" asked Beelzebub, chewing another bite.  
  
Gabriel straightened a little, beaming proudly. "He is my son. An archangel in the making."  
  
Beelzebub almost choked. "You _spawned!?_ HAHAHA!!"  
  
They let out a boisterous laugh that echoed around the restaurant. Several other patrons lifted their heads at the sound, wondering what could be so annoyingly funny.   
  
Gabriel glared so hard at the small demon, they could have burst into holy flames on the spot. Beelzebub's laughter eventually quieted but they still snickered at him mockingly.   
  
Gabriel sneered. "You may laugh now, you foul fiend, but one day he will be even stronger than I. Then we will see who is laughing!”  
  
"He does seem to be quite well-raised," said Aziraphale. He was hiding the grin on his face. Beelzebub's outburst had almost got to him. "I'm sure we will all need to watch out when he makes archangel."  
  
Crowley shrugged. "Eh, he's alright."  
  
Beelzebub composed themself enough to ask Gabriel a question. "Is he as obnoxious as you?"  
  
**  
  
Meanwhile in London, Braum was wondering why this angel felt the need to be so obnoxious.   
  
"You can't do that! It's stealing!" Roziel scolded at him.  
  
Braum took a deep breath and tried to find an extra reserve of patience. "I'm not stealing it! We're on a mission! I'm commandeering it!"  
  
Roziel continued to argue with him. "But what if a human _needs_ it?"  
  
"Then they shouldn't have just left it sitting unattended! They know the risks!"  
  
They had been discussing how they were going to get to Stonehenge now that they had obtained their secret weapon. It was a few hours from London and walking would take far too long. Braum had suggested they drive. Roziel had asked how. Hence, there they were now, arguing over a random blue pickup truck parked unattended on the street.   
  
Braum had spotted it first. He had always wanted to drive one.   
  
"This is ridiculous!" Roziel spouted at him.  
  
Braum sighed. "No, this is wasting time! Do you want to find your father or not?"  
  
Roziel glared at him. "I will go to the ends of the Earth and beyond to find my father!"  
  
"THEN GET IN THE BLOODY LORRY!"  
  
Roziel reluctantly got in the truck. He knew time was of the essence. He would just have to make sure the vehicle was returned safely to its owner, probably with a note of apology attached to it.   
  
Braum finally climbed into the driver's seat. His hands ran along the curve of the steering wheel.   
  
"Do you even know how this thing works?" Roziel asked, refusing to look at him.   
  
"I watch humans drive them all the time," Braum replied, studying the dashboard and the odometer. "Crowley does it. How hard can it be?"  
  
He willed the truck to life. Its engine turned and the cab shook gently as it awoke from its slumber, falling into a comfortable idle.   
  
Braum grabbed hold of the gearshift and placed his foot down on the brake pedal, placing it into drive mode.  
  
"Ok," he said, and he turned to his angel companion. "Here we go then."  
  
The truck took off down the road in a burst of speed. Roziel tried not to yelp as he was thrust back in his seat.   
  
**  
  
Several hours remained before sundown.   
  
The quartet of angels and demons roamed around the rose garden planted behind the little restaurant. Roses of every variety and color bloomed beautifully in the summer sun. Aziraphale was quite taken with the aroma of it all.   
  
"This place is awful," Beelzebub had told them in a deadpan tone. Though no one dared to bring up how the demon took time to pause and put their nose near a bloom every time they found a new color.   
  
Even Gregory, their new miniature fifth companion, buzzed around the flower its master was smelling for a few seconds before returning loyally to their shoulder.  
  
The tall hedges of the garden blocked the view from the street. They were hidden away in the lush rows and columns from any passerbys. Crowley kept his edge out in the open air, but still admired the stunning plant life with Aziraphale.   
  
Beelzebub found a wooden bench to sit on and glare ominously at the flowers. Gabriel sat next to them while the other two strolled a few paces ahead of them. They had all agreed back on the highway that Beelzebub was not to be left alone. So Gabriel served as current bodyguard while Crowley and Aziraphale kept each other preoccupied.   
  
Gabriel watched them. He didn't understand how it could have happened. A demon befriending an angel should have been unheard of, and for that demon and angel to show feelings for each other should have been downright blasphemous. But there they were, and it seemed the Almighty had no plans to smite them off the face of the Earth anytime soon.   
  
So what went wrong? Gabriel turned unwanted thoughts over and over in his head. He'd been turning them over since the day after the Apocalypse failed. Was God wrong? No, he thought. There was always a Plan. Every angel in existence knew this with the very fiber of their soul. It was why they had been made. To carry out the Plan.   
  
But what was the Plan anymore? Gabriel had believed he knew once. Now he didn't know what to think. Had he been wrong?  
  
He watched the demon and angel before him intently. They way they acted, they way they spoke to each other. There was no malice, no hatred, not even a hint of a grudge anywhere. It was against everything he knew of the Natural Order while at the same time, flowing so naturally.   
  
He gazed up at the sky as if just to be sure. There were no dark clouds, no lightning bolts, no ground cracking open beneath them. Just calm skies and...peace.  
  
He dared to expand his senses, his awareness reaching out from his body and dancing around Crowley and Aziraphale in invisible tendrils. He wanted to know what they were feeling, and when he found it, it should have been obvious from the start.  
  
It was love.  
  
Pure, unconditional love.  
  
Crowley inspected one of the bushes carefully, his arm stuck in the barbed branches before yanking it back out with a pristine white rose in his hand. He presented it to Aziraphale. He said something to the angel but Gabriel could not hear him. Aziraphale took the flower with a smile on his face. He then leaned forward and kissed Crowley deeply.  
  
When their lips met, it was like a bomb had gone off directly in front of Gabriel. He drew his awareness back quickly as the air around them charged and sizzled. It was almost painful. Aziraphale's love burned brighter than the sun. Crowley's love raged hotter than a wildfire.   
  
Gabriel sat in shocked silence.  
  
What had he done? What had he very, nearly almost done?  
  
He had almost killed Aziraphale. He had let himself be convinced by Michael that it needed to be done. "There's no other alternative," she had said. Now, with the radiation from the blast that just exploded in front of him scorching his senses, he was glad Aziraphale had found a way to thwart him.   
  
There _was_ another alternative. That alternative was that Gabriel did not have to do anything. He saw now that Aziraphale had nothing to give but love. The angel was completely harmless.  
  
Gabriel's shoulders sank, his confident demeanor shaken by the feeling of guilt for the second time just that day.   
  
"Stop it."  
  
He looked down at the small demon sitting next to him, who had been silent the whole time. "Stop what?" he asked.  
  
"You're brooding," Beelzebub responded. "You're always boring when you brood. Stop it."  
  
Gabriel raised an eyebrow. "Always?"   
  
Beelzebub continued to glower at the rose bushes. "I hated when you got into one of your moods. I still hate you." They added that last part quite hastily.   
  
Gabriel was stunned. "Do you...actually remember me? From before?"  
  
"Did you think I'd forget?" Beelzebub said angrily. "Let me tell you, I tried to forget."  
  
Gabriel was silent. He did not know what to make of this. His entire world was turning on its head today.  
  
He almost didn't hear Beelzebub speak, their voice became so quiet. "I thought you had forgotten me. The way you acted after everything happened, whenever we would have to meet. You never acknowledged me. So I believed you had forgotten who I was."  
  
"I would never forget you, Beelzebub. I was in love with you."  
  
"But you ABANDONED ME!" Beelzebub shouted at him, hurt and anger in their eyes. Gabriel flinched. "When I was thrown before the Almighty and She asked if anyone would speak for me...YOU WEREN'T THERE!"  
  
Beelzebub stood up and stormed off into the garden, leaving no chance for Gabriel to offer a rebuttal. Crowley and Aziraphale walked over, their interest caught by the sudden yelling.  
  
"See?" said Crowley. "We leave them alone for five minutes and look what happens? It's like watching children."  
  
Aziraphale said nothing, only watched Beelzebub disappear behind the roses. He gave a worried glance at Crowley.  
  
"Right, right, I'll take care of it," the demon muttered and trotted off after the other.   
  
Beelzebub glided through the garden, putting as much distance as they could between them and the archangel. They came upon a pond and wandered around the edge as they tried to deny the fact that Gabriel had never forgotten who they were. Several golden colored fish poked their heads out of the water to see if any food was being offered. Beelzebub just stared back at them and the fish disappeared under the dark water again.  
  
Beelzebub stayed there, watching the ripples in the pond.   
  
As much as they wanted to forget Gabriel in that moment more than any other, they could not deny that this whole ordeal was just a ripple from their failure.   
  
"My Lord!"   
  
Crowley came jogging around a hedge, calling for them.   
  
"Now, I don't blame you at all for wanting to get away from that pretentious asshole, but, please stay where I have sight of you! For your safety, of course!"  
  
Crowley sidled up to them. Beelzebub seemed to ignore him. "What did he say to you?" he asked them softly.  
  
Beelzebub tightened their jaw. "It doesn't concern you."  
  
"It might, if it means I get a reason to knock his bloody smug jaw off."  
  
Beelzebub couldn't help it and a small chuckle escaped their lips. "Now that I would like to see. He deserves it."   
  
A fish jumped in the water, making a light plop sound. Their smile faded.  
  
"I'm going to have to fight my way back into Hell, aren’t I? My power has been questioned, and others will protest when I return."  
  
"I don't think it will be too difficult," Crowley offered. "Any demon with half a brain cell knows to stay out of your way. Hastur has always been loyal to you. I'm sure he's discorporating anybody that tries touching your chair."  
  
"If he doesn't try to take it for himself first. I don't even trust Dagon. I feel there's no one I can truly rely on anymore," Beelzebub paused, looking up solemnly. "Except for you."  
  
Crowley said nothing, just nodded his head awkwardly.   
  
"The way you fought Fenrir, at great harm to yourself, no one's ever fought for me like that before."  
  
Crowley opened his mouth but was unsure of what to say. "W-Well...I couldn't just sit there and do nothing, my Lord."  
  
Beelzebub gazed at him in what he could only guess was gratitude. He truly felt he was only doing his duty as a demon. It was very strange to be receiving such words from the (former) Prince of Hell.  
  
He must have had an odd look on his face because Beelzebub suddenly turned away, forcibly clearing their throat. "This seal is making me far too emotional," they grumbled.  
  
"Far too much," he nodded in half-hearted agreement. _It's not just the seal,_ he thought to himself. Though, Beelzebub didn't need to hear that right now. Demon strength or not, Crowley had no desire to have his throat ripped out. "Don't worry, we'll have the seal off in no time. Aziraphale knows what he's doing."  
  
Beelzebub sat down by the water. Crowley perched down next to them. He could hear their teeth grinding in frustration. "It's just, I should be the one striking fear into the hearts of souls. I judge all those that come before me. I am the Prince of Hell! I shouldn't be doubting my own power! I shouldn't be...I shouldn't be _this!"_  
  
"It's alright to be afraid," Crowley said.   
  
Somewhere off in the distance, a dog barked. Both demons froze on the spot, feeling for any oncoming threats. There was nothing but the sound of the breeze lapping at the water. Crowley relaxed as the world around them remained tranquil.  
  
A nearly imperceptible tremor ran through Beelzebub's frame. Their voice became a whisper. "Please don't let him get me, Crowley."  
  
"He's not going to," Crowley stated firmly.  
  
Beelzebub's head sunk. Crowley dared to reach one arm out, placing it gently around the smaller demon's shoulders.   
  
It was a few tense moments as Crowley waited for his limb to be torn from his torso. When that didn't happen, he squeezed Beelzebub a little harder. He felt them lean tiredly against his side and they both stayed there for a long while.


	8. Chapter 8

Roziel let out an anxious sigh as the countryside rolled by. He and Braum were finally on their way to Stonehenge. They had a slight complication earlier.  
  
Roziel had to question Braum's sense of direction. _It has to be the daylight_, he thought. Braum swore up and down that he knew the city like the back of his hand. Which he did, that was not a lie. He had found the Witchfinder Army’s headquarters fairly quickly. Except that had been on foot and now Braum was driving, and the roads looked different during the day with no bright lights to follow. Simply, Braum was a better navigator in the dark than in the light. He was a bat after all.  
  
Roziel tried to keep himself calm, extremely calm, when Braum stopped and asked for directions to Stonehenge. _How embarrassing_, he thought. An angel and a demon having to ask for directions from a human...  
  
Braum did turn out to be a good driver though, as far as Roziel could tell. This was his first time riding in a human vehicle, so Roziel didn't have much to go on. However he did mention to Braum that you should probably be stopping at _every_ red stoplight and not just the ones you felt like.  
  
His father would not be happy.  
  
Roziel closed his eyes. How was he going to find his father? What if he was in trouble right now? What if he was discorporated, or worse than that, dead?  
  
"It's going to be fine."  
  
Roziel must have made some kind of noise because Braum was watching him from the corner of his eye while he drove. "What?"  
  
"We'll find your father, and then you can go home. "  
  
"And what about the werewolf?" Roziel asked.  
  
"We'll find your father, kill the werewolf, and then you can go home. This is no place for an angel like you."  
  
Roziel frowned, wondering what Braum meant by that. He would indeed take his father back to Heaven if, no, when he found him. Then all would be normal again. Wouldn't it?  
  
He looked at Braum. "What about you? Do you have any family?"  
  
"Just my mother," Braum replied, staring at the road. "But I probably won't see her. She's a pretty low level demon. She doesn't come to Earth much...at all really."  
  
"What is her name?"  
  
No one had ever asked Braum anything so personal before, especially not an angel. No one had ever held the slightest interest in him. "Zorikith," Braum said softly.  
  
Roziel smiled. "She must be nice."  
  
Braum gave a light chuckle. "Demons are not nice."  
  
Roziel was unfazed. "Well, she spawned you. You've been quite nice to me so far."  
  
"Because you forced me to."  
  
Roziel grinned at him. Braum kept his eyes on the road but his face held a smirk. "You know,” he said, “You've never told me your father's name. How will I know who we're looking for?"  
  
"My father is Gabriel."  
  
The smirk melted from Braum's face. He gripped the steering wheel until his knuckles were white. "G-Gabriel, as in the Archangel Gabriel?"  
  
Roziel smiled at him again. "Yes. You know him?"  
  
"Yes," Braum squeaked. "Every demon knows who the Archangel Gabriel is. All demons fear him."  
  
"I know he seems kind of imposing, but he's actually really caring," Roziel said humbly.  
  
"If you're an angel, anyway." Braum cursed himself silently for not connecting the dots sooner. Gabriel had been in the fight with Fenrir. He had watched the whole thing from the shadows. Gabriel had disappeared with Beelzebub and Crowley, and that other angel. Now here comes Roziel down from Heaven, searching for his lost father...  
  
Braum sank a little in his seat. He hoped to God, the Devil, and any other deity that existed that Gabriel was still alive and undiscorporated. He prayed even harder that Roziel would make it out of all this without a scratch on his perfect head. Because if they did find Gabriel and something happened to his offspring while in Braum's company...  
  
"Are you okay, Braum?"  
  
He glanced quickly at Roziel and hoped he was hiding the fear that suddenly welled up inside him. "I'm fine! Just fine!"  
  
Roziel just continued to watch the scenery roll by. Earth was a beautiful place. He found he didn't mind the landscape at all. He initially thought it was going to be boring but the bright greens and muted browns and grays were a nice change from Heaven's blues, silvers, and golds.  
  
The trees and fields eventually gave way to human dwellings and paved streets. They drove through the little town, busy with humans going about their business. Braum drove slowly down the main road when Roziel spotted something just up ahead of them.  
  
"There! That vehicle! That's the one the demon Crowley uses!"  
  
Braum pulled up behind the Bentley, recognizing it as well. They got out and walked around the car to find it empty.  
  
"It looks alright, no claw marks or dents. They must be somewhere nearby," Braum said, studying their surroundings. Humans went about peacefully. No sign of a monstrous werewolf anywhere.  
  
Roziel reached out with his mind, feeling the air for impressions of his father. He was drawn to a hidden garden across the street.  
  
**  
  
"You've been awfully quiet lately," Aziraphale said to Gabriel, sitting next to him on the bench. He waited patiently for a response. The one he got was not with words, but it was the one Aziraphale had been expecting.  
  
Gabriel's brow furrowed and a troubled expression fell across his face. Aziraphale's suspicions had been right all along.  
  
"No one came out of the Rebellion unscathed, Gabriel. I know how much you loved Beelzebub before they fell."  
  
Gabriel sighed. "That's just the problem. I never stopped. I couldn't. I thought they had forgotten everything."  
  
"Except no one did," Aziraphale confirmed. "Everyone remembers how life was before. Many just accepted their fate, just like Crowley and Beelzebub. There would be no reason for a war if all of us had forgotten why we were fighting in the first place."  
  
Gabriel knew his logic made sense. "How did I let myself become so blind?"  
  
"To be fair, you've always had a lot on your plate, Gabriel," Aziraphale said calmly. "You are the lead Archangel of Heaven and that is a huge responsibility. It is not your fault."  
  
Gabriel regarded him softly. "I should have listened to you better, Aziraphale. Maybe things could have been different." He gazed into the space where Beelzebub and Crowley had gone. He could feel their presence on the other side of the garden.  
  
Aziraphale offered him a small smile. "Maybe things still can. It is a new world after all."  
  
Gabriel turned to him, full sincerity in his eyes. "I owe you an apology, Azira-"  
  
"FATHER!"  
  
Gabriel stood up, shocked, as none other than Roziel came running around a hedge. "Roziel!? What are you doing here?"  
  
He moved to greet his son with the intent of delivering a very stern lecture but Roziel slammed into him, wrapping his arms around his father in a tight hug.  
  
Gabriel's mouth opened but no words came out. He could feel all of Roziel's anguish, relief, and happiness as he held onto him in a death grip. Gabriel only embraced him in return.  
  
Crowley emerged from the far end of the garden with Beelzebub in tow. "What is going on here?" He'd sensed their visitors and rushed backed to Aziraphale's location.  
  
"It appears Roziel has returned to Earth," said Aziraphale. "Looks like he's brought a friend too."  
  
Braum followed behind Roziel at a slower pace. He couldn't decide if he should hide or keep his distance from Gabriel. He opted for the latter. Though he was slightly relieved when he spotted his fellow demons. He tried to slide over to them unnoticed.  
  
"Lord Beelzebub," he greeted respectfully.  
  
"You're Braum," said the small demon. "You haven't reported in lately."  
  
"I've been preoccupied."  
  
Crowley positioned himself between Beelzebub and the newcomer. "With what exactly, Braum? I haven't seen you around much either. "  
  
Braum stepped backward.  
  
"It's alright, Crowley," Beelzebub said. "He's harmless. Aren't you, Braum?"  
  
"Yes, my Lord." Braum bowed his head, deferring to Crowley. He'd seen what the serpent could do with Fenrir. He would never think of challenging him.  
  
Roziel released his father. Gabriel however held him firmly by the shoulders, staring him straight in the eye.  
  
"What are you doing here, Roziel? You know you have duties to attend to in Heaven. And who is _that_?"  
  
"I came back to find you, Father,” Roziel replied. He made sure to put himself between Braum and his father. “And it’s alright! This is Braum. He’s the reason I found you so quickly. I apologize greatly for it, but I had to warn you!"  
  
Gabriel raised a concerned eyebrow. "Warn me about what?"  
  
Roziel took a deep breath, still trying to calm his nerves. "Heaven knows about the werewolf sent after Beelzebub. I heard angels talking in secret about it. I think they're hoping he will restart the war."  
  
Beelzebub stepped forward. "Is this true?"  
  
Gabriel let go of him, processing this information. He knew Roziel was telling the truth. His son had no reason to lie to him. Roziel was also quite intelligent, he would not easily make the simple error of mishearing something that important.  
  
He turned to Beelzebub. "I trust Roziel completely. He knows what he's talking about."  
  
"Then you were right, Crowley!" Aziraphale exclaimed. "This is all a plot to restart Armageddon!"  
  
Crowley just smugly stared at Gabriel. "Told you so."  
  
Beelzebub was seething. They had always followed the rules, kept true to their job description, maintained solid order in a place where if someone looked at someone else the wrong way, all Hell would literally break loose. And in return? Both Hell and Heaven thought of them as nothing but a pawn. Something that was expendable enough to be removed, discarded, forgotten about, as long as it meant both realms could finally have their fist fight.  
  
The mark on their head burned a smoldering red.  
  
They felt a hand on their shoulder, strong and firm as if trying to steady them from exploding in a flaming fireball of rage. Which, if they had been at full power, they could have easily done.  
  
Beelzebub looked up at Crowley. Crowley stood beside them. So did Aziraphale, Gabriel, and now apparently his angelspawn and Braum.  
  
The mark simmered down to a dim glow.  
  
Crowley was right. He was always right. Beelzebub had them all on their side.  
  
Roziel's fears and worries settled as he stood in the presence of his father. It was going to be okay, his father appeared to be unharmed and was still his usual stoic self. Roziel relaxed a little bit and looked at the garden around him.  
  
The garden.  
  
He was standing in an earthbound garden. It was as if a veil had been lifted and Roziel was suddenly seeing the plants for the first time since he arrived. He couldn't believe the colors, the smells, the beauty that surrounded him.  
  
Braum kept silent next to him as the others began talking amongst themselves. Roziel had a daze in his green eyes.  
  
"Do you see this Braum?"  
  
Braum looked at him. The young angel was transfixed with the colorful blooms that surrounded them. "Yes," Braum said. "It's just a bunch of flowers. Roses."  
  
"I've never seen real ones before! They smell so beautiful." Roziel had not been around when the Garden of Eden was created. He always wondered if it was as marvelous as the elder angels described it. If this simple human garden he was in now was so stunningly beautiful, then Eden must have been far beyond his comprehension.  
  
"You should be paying attention," Braum told him.  
  
Roziel tore himself away from the plants, trying to focus on what his father was saying.  
  
Gabriel turned to Beelzebub. "If Heaven is involved, then we have to assume Fenrir knows where we are."  
  
"He'll know what we're trying to do," added Crowley. "We need to get to Stonehenge, take over the higher ground before he can."  
  
“We also have this!” Roziel said, interjecting himself into the conversation. He removed the little black box from his jacket, opening it to reveal what was inside to the others.

Aziraphale was stunned. “That can’t be possible!”

“Where did you find that?” Gabriel asked him, surprised.

Roziel smiled at his father proudly. “I searched the old records. I saw a discrepancy in the forge’s notes and was able to track this down in London. Braum helped me find it.”  
  
Crowley moved forward to get a better look at the bullet in Roziel’s hand. “If that really is a genuine silver bullet, that could change everything. We can get rid of Fenrir for good!”  
  
Aziraphale took the box carefully from Roziel and studied its contents. “This is definitely the real thing. But how will we fire it?”

“I was given this.” Roziel showed him the strange gun.

Crowley stared at Braum once he recognized the ridiculousness of the small gun’s design. “You went to Mr. Shadwell, didn’t you? He had a silver bullet this whole time?”  
  
Braum nodded. “Obviously...”  
  
“Good job, Roziel,” Gabriel praised. “This will give us an advantage while we wait for the witching hour to perform the ritual.”  
  
"When is the witching hour?" Roziel asked.  
  
"It begins at three AM, but it's not even nightfall yet," said Aziraphale, handing the box back to Roziel. "We'll be exposed out in the open."  
  
Crowley assured him. "We'll keep Beelzebub on top of the stones. All of us can fly and Fenrir cannot. If he tries to attack, we'll fly Beelzebub away to safety while Roziel takes him out. Braum, you're a bat, I'm sure you could hear a pin drop a mile away with those big ears. You and I will stand watch after sunset."  
  
The plan was agreed upon, and Crowley gripped Beelzebub’s shoulder confidently. “Everything is going to be fine,” he said.

Beelzebub nodded. Gregory buzzed lightly around their head in excitement.

**

Crowley escorted his passengers back to his Bentley. Braum and Roziel followed behind in the blue truck as the group turned onto the road once more. They didn't have far to go. Their destination sat just on the outskirts of the town.  
  
The evening was upon them. The sky began to change colors and the tourist crowd made its way back to the lodges in town.  
  
Stonehenge was empty. It stood solemnly in the dimming light. Silent and strong, it watched the eras of man pass by it like the cars on the highway. Nearly half of the original circle was gone, the missing stones mysteriously dragged away long ago. However, the spirit of their presence remained, their energy flowing timelessly with their still standing brethren.  
  
Crowley drove up the small road that led to the circle, Braum keeping pace behind him. The Bentley and the blue truck rolled to a stop. Crowley held the door of his car open for Beelzebub, stepping out with the others.  
  
The air felt heavy as they came upon the stones. The land was quiet around the megaliths. There was an invisible force here. Something ancient and wise. The earth vibrated under their feet as they walked from the footpath and over the green grass.  
  
Beelzebub stared up at the towering stones and they stared back as if already knowing the reason the demon was there. The circle welcomed Beelzebub wholly into its embrace.  
  
Crowley and Gabriel led the group to the center of the monument. A horseshoe formation made up the middle of the circle. The tallest of the stones stood here, the trilithons, and Crowley gazed up at them approvingly.  
  
"We'll place you here, Lord Beelzebub. On top of those stones. One of us will stay with you up there, the rest will stand guard around the perimeter."  
  
Gabriel stepped forward. "I'll take the first watch with Beelzebub." His wings unfurled from his back. They were mostly the same pure white as Aziraphale's, except for the long remiges at the edge, which shined a brilliant silver. Each one appeared as if it was a sharp blade, giving Gabriel the look of having wings made of swords. They stretched out, catching the light of the setting sun.  
  
Gabriel unceremoniously picked up Beelzebub. They had no time protest as they were flown to the top of one of the trilithons, over twenty feet in the air.  
  
Once he landed solidly on the horizontal lintel block, Beelzebub jumped out of Gabriel's arms.  
  
"Do not ever do that again!" they shouted at him.  
  
Gabriel only smirked. "How else were you going to get up here?" His enormous wings folded away.  
  
Beelzebub glowered at him. "Your cocky attitude is insufferable."  
  
Crowley called to them from the ground. "Are you alright up there?"  
  
Beelzebub leaned so their head appeared over the edge of the stone. They waved to Crowley.  
  
"That angel is asking for it," Crowley muttered to Aziraphale.  
  
Aziraphale smirked at him. "Yes he is."  
  
Crowley, Aziraphale, Roziel, and Braum took up positions around the circle.  
  
The sky turned from a deep blue to a fiery orange.  
  
Beelzebub sat at the edge of the huge block, legs dangling over the side. Gabriel sat next to them. Silence passed between them for awhile until Beelzebub spoke.  
  
"I don't know what's worse," they said, "Being exiled, or sitting here waiting to be eaten by that monster."  
  
Gabriel looked over to them, shaking his head. "You're not going to be eaten."  
  
Beelzebub stared at the changing sky, eyes muted and sad.  
  
Gabriel carefully reached out his hand and touched theirs softly.  
  
"I will protect you," he said. Beelzebub looked at him. Gabriel squeezed their hand. "I won't abandon you again."  
  
The sun sank. The flaming color of the sky slowly gave way to darkness. Beelzebub watched it fade. As the last sliver of the sun's circle disappeared, they felt their heart pound in one massive beat.  
  
They gripped Gabriel's hand like a lifeline.  
  
Night had come, and Beelzebub hoped they would see the sun rise again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If anyone is curious as to what Roziel and Braum look like, there is a quick drawing I did of them on my tumblr. You can find it here, [Roziel & Braum!](https://pointycorgiears.tumblr.com/post/187843269629/if-youve-read-my-good-omens-fic-you-might)
> 
> Next weekend, I will be out of town, so the final two chapters will be posted on Wednesday, 10/02, instead of the usual Monday. :)


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the longest chapter so far. There's a lot going on here, I hope I did it justice. Enjoy! :)

Stars shone down on the megaliths of Stonehenge, and the angels and demons that were currently occupying it. The night was silent except for the distant sound of cars traveling on the highway. The air was calm and serene.  
  
Beelzebub was nervous and agitated. Gabriel could see it in the demon's eyes, in their posture. They had let go of his hand in favor of wringing their own hands together, their nails almost scratching deep into their skin.   
  
Gabriel studied them. Pale skin, black hair, blue eyes. Beelzebub had physically not changed much since the Fall. What was once an angel was now a demon. They were still someone he knew, someone he loved, as Aziraphale was so keen to notice.  
  
Beelzebub shuddered. Their head bowed. Gabriel felt a pang inside his chest. He knew of one thing that always comforted the other when they became upset. He mentally kicked himself for even thinking about it, but Beelzebub was almost shaking with fear next to him. He was an angel. It was in his job description to vanquish distress when needed. And Beelzebub was very obviously in distress. If they were truly so much the same as before, then it would work, right?  
  
He very slowly raised his hand behind Beelzebub's head, carefully setting it upon their skull. He ran his fingers gently through the jet black hair.   
  
Beelzebub froze, and Gabriel though for a second that they would throw him off. However, their shoulders drooped, their hands became still, and they released a small sigh that was almost impossible for Gabriel to hear. He moved his hand through their hair front to back, side to side, behind each ear.   
  
He did this for the span of a few hours. Not a sound came from the demon. Gabriel was quite surprised when Beelzebub leaned over and rested their head on his thigh, seemingly content to use the archangel as a pillow. He kept his hand on their head, fingers playing softly with their hair.   
  
It was all so familiar and foreign to him at the same time.   
  
Beelzebub no longer shook for the time that they sat together. The demon gradually dozed off and Gabriel stilled his hand.   
  
Aziraphale eventually appeared next to them. Gabriel looked up at him as he folded his white wings away.   
  
Aziraphale smiled at him. "Things going well?"   
  
"All seems quiet," Gabriel responded.   
  
*

Braum wandered over to where Roziel stood among the stones. Roziel greeted him with a smile. “This seems to be going smoothly,” the angel said.

“So far,” Braum muttered. “It’s not over until it’s over.”

Roziel stared out into the night. The headlights of cars on the highway could be seen in the distance. “There’s still some time. You could leave if you wanted.”

This statement caught Braum off guard. “Leave?”

“You said you would leave once I found my father. And I have. You’ve fulfilled your debt to me, you don’t have to stay here.”

“Well, I can’t just leave Lord Beelzebub to fend for themself,” Braum replied. He too watched the lights of the cars passing by, and briefly wondered just when he had decided to stay longer than was required. The answer came when he realized he didn’t want Roziel to fend for himself, either.  
  
Roziel considered him. “Beelzebub is not alone. We are all here for them.” He turned to look at him and smiled at the demon. "I'm glad you’re here with me."  
  
Braum couldn't help himself and smiled back. His throat tightened at the question that wanted to come out of his mouth.   
  
"Roziel," he started and he knew his voice was strained. "Would you-"  
  
He stopped.   
  
Roziel was watching him, waiting for the rest of the words to be spoken. Braum twitched his head, his red eyes staring into space. Roziel instantly knew something was wrong. "Braum?"  
  
Braum turned his head around, brow furrowed, but he was not using his eyes.   
  
A sound, a din, was creeping into the air.  
  
Braum listened to it. It was not a sound pleasant to his ears. He stared at Roziel, directly into the angel's eyes this time.   
  
"Something's coming."  
  
*  
  
"Not much longer now," Aziraphale mused. "About an hour left."  
  
"Then all this will be over," Gabriel said.  
  
"And what will happen after?"  
  
Gabriel looked at Aziraphale. "Things will be normal again."  
  
"Are you certain that's how it will be?"   
  
Gabriel didn't answer him. He moved his hand over Beelzebub's shoulder, squeezing gently.  
  
Beelzebub's head shot up. They sat up from Gabriel's lap, eyes were wide, staring into the air in fearful alert.  
  
Gabriel gripped their arm to keep them from falling to ground from the sudden movement. "Beelzebub? Are you alright?"  
  
They heard footsteps below them as Roziel and Braum ran to the base of the trilithon. "Father!" Roziel called out, "There's something coming this way!"  
  
Gabriel stood up and turned to Aziraphale. "Stay here with Beelzebub," he told the other angel. He leaped down from the trilithon and ran to the edge of the stone circle with Roziel and Braum.   
  
Aziraphale moved next to Beelzebub, placing an arm around their shoulder. "We should stay low," he said, kneeling down close to the surface of the stone. Beelzebub followed his example. The two of them remained there, watching and listening to the dark that stretched beyond them.   
  
Crowley stood at the edge of the circle, eyes fixed on the field in front of him. Braum appeared by his side. "Do you see it yet?"   
  
"No, but I can hear it," Braum said. "It sounds like animals. Like dogs. A lot of dogs!"  
  
Crowley frowned. "Tell me how far."  
  
Braum focused his ears on the noise. "One mile. Moving in fast from the north."  
  
Crowley's wings sprouted from his back and he lifted into the air. He landed where Aziraphale and Beelzebub waited. He knelt down with both of them, staring into their eyes.   
  
"Stay here," he said. "Stay off the ground. No matter what happens."  
  
Braum called up to him. "Half a mile Crowley!"  
  
Crowley leaned forward and connected his lips with Aziraphale's. He broke away and then moved to press his forehead against Beelzebub's. "I will protect you both," he said.   
  
His black wings opened and he flew over the stones. His body morphed midflight and he landed on the cool grass as an imposing winged serpent once more.  
  
His teeth flashed in the starlight. His wings flared and a deep growl escaped his fiery throat as he faced the oncoming black mass of rabid creatures on the horizon.  
  
Gabriel, Roziel, and Braum stood behind him at the ready.   
  
Gabriel summoned his sword again. Roziel followed his father's lead, calling his own sword down from Heaven. It was similar in style to Gabriel's, though sleeker, made from a lighter metal. Roziel crafted it himself. Every warrior was expected to. Their weapon was made from their own hands and therefore became a part of their being. Roziel's sword, just as his father's, would go to him no matter where he found himself in the universe.   
  
Gabriel spoke to him, keeping his eyes fixed at the fight running toward them. "You know what to do. As soon as you get a clear shot, take it. I know I can count on you, Roziel."  
  
"Yes, Father," Roziel replied, flexing his sword. The metal rang in the air.  
  
They assumed a defensive stance, father and son side by side, facing battle together for the first time.   
  
A thought then occurred to Roziel and he glanced to Braum. The demon was standing next to them, looking a little apprehensive about the whole situation.   
  
"Where's your weapon?" Roziel asked him.  
  
"I...don't have one."  
  
Roziel frowned. "You're going to need something! Did you look in the truck?"  
  
Braum shuffled away to the truck parked down from the stones. It was worth the try. He didn't really want to fight in his beast form like Crowley. Braum tended to be a brute with other demons sometimes, but he by no means considered himself a warrior.   
  
The cab was empty. He searched in the back for something, anything. There was an old wooden plank, dirty and sun-beaten so much that it almost blended into the truck bed. It would have to do. He took it and rejoined the others.   
  
Crowley dug his claws into the ground. He could see the creatures now. They were indeed dogs, or at least had been at one point. They were of every shape, size, and breed. It seemed like there were hundreds of them. They ran at him, teeth snapping, growling, and barking like the cursed mongrels they were. Crowley charged, running at them head on, unleashing a large fireball from his mouth straight into the pack. Several of the dogs went flying from the blast and Crowley dove teeth first into the mess.   
  
The dogs that made it past his assault went straight for the angels and demon near the edge of the stone circle. They braced themselves against the attack. Gabriel cut at the dogs with his sword, his back facing Roziel's. They hacked and kicked at the beasts, keeping each other from being overrun.  
  
Braum knocked away as many as he could with the plank. Every time he took out one, two more lunged at him. He quickly found himself being forced back into the stone circle.   
  
Crowley continued to decimate as many of the creatures as he was capable. His teeth and claws tore into them as they tried to overtake his much larger form. His tail whipped and flung away twenty at a time. He breathed fire into the mass, making them scatter from his flames.   
  
Though, no matter what he did, no matter how many he "killed," they just got back up again. They regenerated, grew new heads and limbs, shook off ash and burning fur, every time appearing completely unharmed. Crowley squashed the tiny feeling of panic in the back of his mind. He needed to keep his head in this fight, which he started to feel was more of a distraction...  
  
He jumped into the air, shaking several dogs from his wings, and landing near the stones with the others. A dog had managed to wedge itself between Gabriel and Roziel's defense, and had pounced on the archangel's back. Crowley captured it in his jaws and tossed it away. He snapped his tail and sent a good number of the beasts flying, giving the angels a few seconds to breathe.   
  
Roziel straightened himself, preparing for the next wave. "What are these things!? Every time I cut one down it gets back up!" Another dog quickly lunged at him.  
  
Gabriel shook his head, twirling his sword in his hands. "They've been cursed by dark magic from Hell. Fenrir's made himself an army!"  
  
Braum appeared from behind a stone, flinging his makeshift weapon back and forth at two dogs tearing at his jacket. He hadn't been faring much better than the others. "We should probably consider getting out of here!"   
  
A new onslaught of dogs was quickly upon them. Crowley swatted and tore at them, placing himself in front of his smaller companions, taking the brunt of the assault. He turned his long neck in the direction of the tall trilithon where Aziraphale and Beelzebub sat. Dogs were at the base, clawing and trying to scramble upward, but they could not manage to get more than a few feet from the ground. They were safe for the moment and Crowley focused his attention on beating back as many of the dogs as possible.   
  
Beelzebub leaned into Aziraphale, watching as the creatures tried to climb up to their safe spot, listening to the fighting taking place just outside the circle. Aziraphale protectively held onto them, wishing he could do something to help Crowley and the others. He knew he couldn't leave Beelzebub's side though.  
  
Among the barking and snapping of teeth around them, Beelzebub picked up another sound. It wasn't from the dogs, and it came from beyond the ground. Beelzebub turned their head, glancing behind them, and they clutched to Aziraphale in fear.   
  
Fenrir was perched on one of the shorter stones behind them, his yellow eyes set on Beelzebub. His claws gripped at the edge and he sprung forward in a giant leap before Aziraphale could react. He knocked them both to the ground.   
  
Fenrir rolled over them, his huge mass having too much momentum from the fall to pin them down. Beelzebub hit the ground hard, the air knocked out of them, and they stared up at the night sky, dazed. They struggled to move, to get up, to run away, but they couldn't breathe. They could hear Fenrir's growl drawing near them. They gasped out in terror as their view of the white stars were replaced with glowing yellow eyes.  
  
As soon as Aziraphale hit the grass, the dogs were upon him. "BEELZEBUB!" he yelled. He managed to stand, throwing off the beasts from his shoulders and calling the sword Gabriel had provided him. It warped from the Bentley and appeared in his hand, slashing through three leaping dogs as Aziraphale swung his arm in a graceful arc. They landed on the ground, temporarily deceased, and Aziraphale ran to Beelzebub before they could regenerate.   
  
He drove the sword deep into the werewolf's back, tackling him, and pulling him off the demon. Aziraphale held onto fistfuls of fur as Fenrir tried to shake him off, opening his wings to give him balance. "Run Beelzebub!" he shouted. Beelzebub forced themself to stand, and they stumbled to try to hide behind the massive stones.  
  
Fenrir thrashed and bucked, but he could not get the stubborn angel to let go. He could not reach him with his arms either. So he leaped forward, twisting in midair and he forced all his weight to the ground as he landed flat on his back, crushing Aziraphale underneath him. It was enough to finally dislodge the angel and Fenrir rolled back onto all fours.   
  
Aziraphale laid there, stunned, wings crushed, his sword pressed into the grass beside him.   
  
Fenrir flashed his teeth and made to grab the angel's neck in his jaws, but Crowley crashed into him with an angry snarl. He had sensed Aziraphale's distress and fought his way through the pack to assist his angel.   
  
Every scale and feather bristled, every muscle and tendon was primed. Crowley tore into Fenrir stronger than he had in his first fight with the werewolf. The sight of Aziraphale subdued on the ground made him a wild force to be reckoned with.   
  
He pushed Fenrir out beyond the edge of the circle. Dogs scattered as their master and the black dragon tumbled on the grass. Braum dodged behind a stone before he could be crushed by the two giants. Gabriel and Roziel seized their chance to divide the pack further and drive them back into the fields.   
  
Fenrir had lost track of his prey in the midst of the scrap and his fur rattled in anger. He twisted over Crowley and caught the demon at the base of his neck with a bite. He bit down firm and hurled the demon against one of the massive stones, tearing at the wings in the process.   
  
Crowley landed at the base, only half-knowing what hit him. He'd struck his head hard against the stone, and his wings were damaged beyond flying.   
  
Braum had felt the impact from the other side of the stone and he cautiously peeked his head around. Fenrir was ready to charge and Crowley was not getting up. The angels were too busy with the dogs to see what happened. "Crowley!" he yelled, but there was no response. Yellow eyes and dagger teeth were moving in for the kill, fast.  
  
Braum threw his plank down as he leaped into the air.   
  
Fenrir was a whisker length from Crowley when something hooked into his shoulder and hauled him off the ground. He was flung away into the grassy field and an enormous shadow, blacker than the night, glided over him.   
  
Braum landed in front of him in full monstrous bat form, long wings outstretched. He let loose a scream at Fenrir that would shatter the thickest glass.   
  
Fenrir's ears flinched back. His head twitched like a nail had just been driven into his skull. He kept his ears folded down tight as he charged against the bat.   
  
Braum jumped into the air before Fenrir could grab him. He kept himself just out of claws’ reach, tearing at the werewolf with the hooked talons on his legs like a hawk snatching its prey. His massive wings beat strong enough to keep Fenrir disoriented from their powerful gusts.   
  
Braum's screech had caused Crowley to snap out of his daze, and he picked himself up, shaking off the earlier blow. He dashed forward, tackling Fenrir from behind while Braum had him distracted.   
  
Beelzebub crouched low to the ground in the shadows of the stones. They could hear the other two demons engaging Fenrir together just beyond their sight. The dogs were focusing primarily on Gabriel and Roziel. Aziraphale was somewhere knocked out towards the center of the circle. Beelzebub was currently alone, vulnerable, trying their best to blend in with the darkness around them.  
  
Growls echoed around them. A few dogs had wandered back. Beelzebub could hear them sniffing the air and padding softly on the grass, stalking the prey their master wanted. They were drawing closer.  
  
Beelzebub concentrated hard on their wings. They needed to get off the ground. However, no matter how desperate Beelzebub needed them, they just did not yet have the strength to open them. Their wings were too big. They required too much energy to unfurl and operate to give them enough lift to fly. Beelzebub was currently grounded.  
  
They needed to try something else. They could not just sit there acting completely helpless when they knew no help would be coming anytime soon. Perhaps something simpler was possible? Beelzebub focused on the two daggers they had forged for themself long ago. They willed the blades to appear into their hands, and after a bit of effort, the blades did so. Beelzebub twirled each one, somewhat relieved. The daggers were made from the toughest Hellsteel, with intricate decorations molded into the triangular blades. They were Beelzebub's own personal weapons.   
  
The growling was uncomfortably close to them. Beelzebub remained still. At least now they had something to defend themself with. They tightened their grip on the hilts of the daggers as they thought the pounding of their own heart would give away their position.  
  
The sound of growling and snarling began to fade. Beelzebub listened, and they could no longer hear the footsteps of the beasts. They waited a few moments before slowly leaning to the side, looking beyond the stone they hid against. They could see nothing, no movement.   
  
Beelzebub leaned back into place, holding a sigh of relief deep in their chest. They lowered their arms, their right hand brushing against the cool grass, their left hand brushing against something else...  
  
Beelzebub nearly jumped away from the stone in terror as their eyes suddenly met the green piercing ones of a...cat?  
  
Beelzebub froze. A gray cat was staring at them, blinking slowly, a low purr emanating from its throat. Where had it come from? Beelzebub held its gaze, unmoving, feeling the dark energy flowing through the small creature. This was not an ordinary cat...  
  
Beelzebub lifted one blade, preparing to strike the cursed feline down as it crept closer to them. Beelzebub's hand rose, their grip tight and sure on the weapon. The cat just rubbed its head affectionately on Beelzebub's leg, running the full length of its side against the demon's limb, purring loudly.   
  
Beelzebub lowered their hand, feeling no immediate threat from the cat. It only weaved around their ankles, leaving trails of hair stuck on their pantleg. Beelzebub was speechless as the cat purred along. They were so distracted that they did not see a dog approach quietly behind them until it was too late.   
  
"Ahhh!" Beelzebub screamed as the dog latched onto their forearm, clamping down. Another appeared beside it, grabbing onto a leg. Beelzebub moved to strike the dogs in the face with their free arm and dagger as they were being pulled away from their hiding spot. To their surprise, the cat hissed angrily and swatted violently at the canines. The result was a few pitiful yelps and the dogs retreated back into the dark, releasing the demon's limbs.  
  
Beelzebub stared at the cat. "Thanks, I guess," they muttered. The cat blinked at them and then disappeared between the stones.   
  
"Beelzebub!"   
  
The demon turned their head to see Aziraphale stumbling toward them, his sword still in his hand.   
  
"Come with me! Let's get you out of here!" the angel said, trying to help Beelzebub to their feet while almost losing balance on his own. He tried to move his wings. The bones were cracked and he grimaced in pain.

Meanwhile, the battle of the two demons and werewolf raged on. Crowley and Braum worked in tandem tearing at Fenrir so that he didn’t have much breathing room between attacks. He thrashed at them viciously with his teeth and claws, but he could not regain the upper hand while simultaneously being hit from the ground and the air.

Gabriel and Roziel had managed to drive the monstrous pack of dogs away from the perimeter of Stonehenge. The archangel kept his senses spread throughout the entire battleground. He watched Crowley and Braum take on Fenrir, while he mentally felt Beelzebub and Aziraphale hiding among the stones. Beelzebub was still safe and he was relieved. But he knew time was against them all. They needed to take out Fenrir fast before he wore down the two demons.

“Roziel! You need to find a position with a clear shot!” he shouted over to the other angel.

Roziel swung his sword gracefully, cutting and pushing back the dogs even further. “I can’t leave you here by yourself!” Roziel glanced over to where the others fought. Braum and Crowley were caught in a tangle with Fenrir. The werewolf was distracted and Roziel saw the opportunity, but he couldn’t risk hitting one of the demons.

“I’ll be fine!” Gabriel shouted at him. “Now go!”

Roziel gave one last kick and swing at the dogs, and then retreated to the edge of the stone circle. He crouched at the base of one of the megaliths, planting his sword beside him, never taking his eyes off the monstrous tussle in front of him. He drew the small, strange gun from his jacket. He loaded the silver bullet into its chamber.

Fenrir was growing tired of entertaining the two demons. A flash in the starlight caught his attention between the wings and scales and drew his attention to the angel taking up position near the stones. His yellow eyes narrowed dangerously.

Roziel held the gun in his hands, or rather tried to. The human designed weapon was clunky and he struggled to find a good angle to aim. Roziel was by nature always a good shot, he had the eye and discipline for it. But he was used to divine instruments, not primitive human designed devices. His confidence that he would be able to make the shot in all the chaos was quickly dwindling and he tried to keep himself from panicking.

Fenrir knew he had to end this fight now. Crowley had him pinned, his tail wrapping around Fenrir’s bottom half and his jaws tightening on Fenrir’s throat. Fenrir tried to push him away, punching at his chest and shoulders. He couldn’t get the demon to release his grip. He brushed against something wet on the demon’s side. An open wound. Fenrir thrust his claws into the wound, digging in as deep as he could go into the demon’s ribcage.

Crowley let go in a howl of pain. It was enough for Fenrir to push him off and escape. Once free, he lifted the demon and tossed him away. Crowley tumbled into the field, slow to get back up from the pain in his side.

Braum dived at the werewolf. Fenrir was ready for him this time and jumped into the air to meet him. He tackled the bat into the earth, his teeth clamping down into the shoulder joint of one wing, disabling it completely. He threw the grounded bat towards the angel near the stones.

Roziel rolled to the side to avoid being struck by Braum’s giant beast form. Fenrir was coming for him next. The gun was no longer in his hand. It was lying in the grass between him and the charging werewolf.

Roziel made a dive for it. Fenrir went over him. Roziel raised his hand up to aim but the werewolf was too close to get a clear shot, and Roziel realized too late that his sword was not with him. He dodged to the side as he saw a massive arm coming down on him. It missed him by inches and Roziel made to get back on his feet, failing to see the werewolf’s other arm swinging towards him…

He felt a great force hit his torso, below his chest, and he was flung backward. When his eyes regained focus, he saw the stars above him. He was flat on his back and something warm was seeping into his jacket. He placed his hands over his body and lifted them to his face, staring at the red liquid running over them.

Gabriel had felt it. It was as if a hand had reached into his chest and tried to rip his heart out. His head snapped up, purple eyes bright, and he cut through every dog in his path, running straight to Roziel.

Fenrir could see the angel was not getting up. He scanned the area around him and spotted the odd little gun abandoned in the grass. Fenrir sneered down at it before crushing it to oblivion under his foot.

He loomed over the bleeding angel below him. The two demons were also currently incapacitated. Fenrir bared his teeth in a twisted grin. Half of his adversaries were down.

He heard a shout and he turned away from the wounded angel to see another come flying at him, sword first.

Gabriel lunged at Fenrir in a rage only Heaven could muster, forcing the werewolf away from where Roziel lay.

Braum’s bat form melted into his human one. He painfully rolled to his side, gripping at the shoulder Fenrir had torn. He crawled on hands and knees over to Roziel. Three large gashes from Fenrir’s claws were laced across his stomach. He had nearly been disemboweled by the werewolf, but was still presently alive in his body. “Roziel!” Braum cried, gripping the angel’s arm. “Don’t you dare discorporate here!”

Gabriel continued his angry assault on Fenrir. His sword sliced at the werewolf’s head, temporarily blinding him as it cut across his eyes. Fenrir stumbled back, clutching at his face.

Gabriel took the chance to go to Roziel’s side, kneeling down beside him with Braum. Gabriel placed his hand on his son’s face gently. “Roziel…”

Braum looked at the archangel, and then past his shoulder. Fenrir was recovering from the wound on his face. He reached over Roziel and gripped Gabriel tightly by the arm. “I’ll take care of him! You need to keep fighting!”

Gabriel stared at him, purple eyes full of pain. Braum held his gaze firmly. “I can heal him! But I can’t do it if Fenrir is on top of us. Go! I swear I will keep him safe!”

Fenrir roared in anger. It seemed to be enough to pull Gabriel of out his despair. He gave a small nod to the demon. He stood, walking over to Roziel’s fallen sword. He picked it up and held it tightly in his hand along with his own. His silver wings expanded from behind him. He faced Fenrir unblinking.

Braum looked away as Gabriel and Fenrir clashed. He kept his attention on his friend instead. He lifted Roziel in his arms, flinching at the pain in his shoulder, and retreated into the shadows of the stones.

Crowley lifted himself up. His sides ached. His wings were tired. He looked across the battlefield. Gabriel was engaging Fenrir in a wild fury. Braum had disappeared with Roziel. The dogs were regrouping and making for the stone circle. Crowley could feel Aziraphale and Beelzebub near the center. Aziraphale felt as tired and wounded as he did. Crowley summoned his strength and galloped back into the fray, readying himself once more as several dogs branched off from the pack and ran at him.

Aziraphale lifted his sword as he heard the next round of dogs approaching. He looked down at Beelzebub. Their daggers were poised in their hands, sharp and ready. Aziraphale caught their eye. “Do not leave my side,” he said. Beelzebub nodded to him. The two of them stood side by side, holding their ground as the pack lunged.

Gabriel drove into Fenrir with both blades. He used the force from his wings to push himself forward and knock Fenrir backward. The werewolf rolled, landing on all fours. He glared at the archangel. His teeth shown menacingly and he let out a loud snarling bark. Gabriel paused, looking over his shoulder. Dogs were running straight for him. They pelted into him, their jaws snapping at his arms, legs, and wings.

Fenrir left him to deal with the beasts. He turned toward Stonehenge. He stalked among the stones, watching Beelzebub and their angel companion fight off the dogs. They were holding their own, their daggers slashing and gleaming as bright as the beasts’ teeth. Fenrir could see they were wearing down though. He just needed to get rid of the angel.

Aziraphale didn’t see Fenrir charging toward him. He sensed the threat too late as he hacked through the dogs in front of him, failing to have enough time to block the attack. Fenrir crashed into him, head-butting him in the chest and sending the angel flying. He collided against a stone and fell to the ground.

Aziraphale shook his head, trying to stand, bracing himself on his sword like a crutch. He lost sight of Beelzebub as a wave of dogs overcame him.

Beelzebub swung each arm in a graceful arc, cutting down the two dogs that tried to jump at them. They heard a noise behind them as the creatures fell to the ground, and Beelzebub whirled around, ready to take on the next batch of mongrels…and froze…

Beelzebub was not facing any dogs, only the towering form of Fenrir. His shadow washed over them and Beelzebub could see his lips curled up in an evil smile.

Somewhere deep down, Beelzebub’s warrior instincts kicked in, chasing away the cold fear that had frozen them in place. Maybe it was because they had regained a liter of demon strength and their usual stubbornness had reawakened, or maybe it was because they were just tired of being afraid. Beelzebub didn’t know. They only knew that they would fight Fenrir this time. They could not, and would not, run away.

Fenrir came down on the small demon and Beelzebub reached out, striking him in the neck with their blade. He tossed his head back in reflex and Beelzebub drove forward, stabbing each of their blades into his flesh. The daggers cut deep and burned, and Fenrir was suddenly reminded of the torment he faced while in Hell. The weapons were made of the same steel the torturers had used against him.

Beelzebub sensed the brief lapse of his focus, and they pushed harder in their assault. They screamed in anger and frustration at the werewolf, mark on their head burning bright, daggers cutting every sensitive and vulnerable part on his body. Beelzebub’s choice of weapon suited them well. Beelzebub had been created with a small stature and they had shorter limbs than others. They had much less distance to cover when on the offensive, and they made short, deep, effective attacks. It was why Lucifer said they should have been named “Lord of the Wasps” instead of the flies.

Fenrir was treading backward as Beelzebub hacked into him, slashing at his face. He was being forced out of the circle. He lashed out with his claws, but he was having trouble seeing where the demon actually was, and his long arm overshot above their head.

He growled in frustration. Those daggers were bothersome and Fenrir needed to get rid of them. Beelzebub’s arms were growing tired and Fenrir could sense they began to struggle to continue the attack. They would have to fall back soon. He held on for a moment longer, knowing the demon’s limited strength would soon drain away.

Beelzebub gave one hard push past the edge of the circle when their right arm finally gave out. Fenrir cracked one bloody eye open and saw his chance. He opened his jaws as Beelzebub swung their still functioning left arm. He caught the demon’s hand in his mouth, biting down and tearing through the flesh.

Beelzebub screamed and was flung to the side as Fenrir jerked his head. They rolled on the ground, disoriented from a searing pain in their limb. Beelzebub tried to get back up, but fell face first into the cool grass. Beelzebub screamed again when they realized their left hand was completely gone. Only a bloody stump remained.

Fenrir swallowed the severed hand, spitting out the dagger it had been clutching. Just that small sample of his prey’s flesh was enough to send a revitalizing charge through his body. He could feel his wounds close, his strained muscles realigning. He felt as he had when the battle first started.

Beelzebub took in deep, raspy breaths. They pressed their left arm into their side, holding their remaining dagger out in front of them. The glow on their forehead dimmed from fiery red to pale orange.

*

Gabriel felt Beelzebub’s pain like he had felt Roziel’s earlier. He tried to fight his way out of the pack of dogs that had him surrounded, who were suddenly attacking him more vehemently than before. He could only assume they had been told to keep him from moving by their master. Which meant Fenrir was getting closer to his goal. Gabriel flexed his wings, making to leap into the sky, but the dogs latched on to him and each other in a chain, pulling him back down.

“Crowley!” Gabriel called out to the demon fighting a small distance from him. “Get to Beelzebub!”

Crowley was having his own trouble with the beasts. They swarmed him, putting all their weight on his wings and tail, pinning him down. _AZIRAPHALE!,_ he mentally called out.

Aziraphale heard Crowley’s voice in his head. He knew Beelzebub was in trouble. He heard the scream and felt the pain. However, he was being pressed against a stone and could not push back the barrage of dogs. He cut through them with his sword, but as one went down, another came after. He was cornered.

*

Braum opened his black feathered demon wings and flew Roziel to the top of a stone. He lay him gently on the block, moving his hands over his wounds. “Come on,” he whispered. He ignored his own broken shoulder, instead focusing all the energy he had left into healing the angel.

Roziel opened his eyes. Everything started off blurry and slowly formed into the clear shape of Braum’s face peering over him. Roziel stared at him, confused. “What happened?”

Braum helped him sit up. “Fenrir almost ripped your gut out, is what happened.”

Roziel felt over his stomach. The wounds were gone, as well as the blood. He looked at Braum, grateful. “Thank you.”

“Don’t thank me just yet,” Braum replied. “It’s a mess down there.”

Roziel leaned over the edge, taking in the fighting below him. Then he remembered. “The gun! Where is it!?”

Braum frowned. “Fenrir destroyed it.”

Roziel’s eyes darkened. He failed. He had been too clumsy with his hands. He could not fire the gun…

The thought hit him full force in the head. _He could not fire the gun. The gun hadn’t been fired!_

He looked at Braum, eyes brightening. “Where is it? Where are the remains of the gun?”

Roziel leaped to the ground before Braum could answer. He dashed between the shadows, kicking at any stray dog that spotted him. Braum followed closely behind him, giving him back up. Roziel went to the place he last remembered having the gun in his hand. He followed the scuff marks and blood stains in the grass, until he came upon the crumbled remains of the small weapon. He carefully picked through it while Braum beat away several dogs trying to attack him. Roziel found the crushed chamber. He pried it open with his fingers until the glimmer of the silver bullet peeked in the starlight. Roziel gently removed it, delicately like a surgeon, ignoring the screams and snarling of the chaos around him.

He examined the bullet in his hand. It was still intact. The Heavenly metal withstanding the pressure of Fenrir’s foot. “I got it!” he shouted to Braum. “Let’s go!” He got up and ran back to the shelter of the stones.

Braum followed him. “That’s all well and good, but what are you going to do with it!? The gun is destroyed!”

Roziel ignored him as he reached the shadows. He crept around the megaliths, looking for Fenrir’s position. He saw the werewolf and Beelzebub just beyond the rim, out in the open field. Roziel opened his wings, bright green and blue iridescent feathers glistening in the dim light, and he flew to the tallest of the stones. He landed on the high trilithon in the center of the circle.

Braum landed next to him, amazed at the color in the young angel’s wings. “What are you doing? Beelzebub needs our help!”

Roziel tuned him out as he called to Heaven and summoned his bow.

*

Fenrir was upon Beelzebub before they could properly react. He knocked the demon to the ground. Beelzebub slipped under him and cut at his throat, squirming away between his arms and legs. They got quickly to their feet. They tried to run to the safety of the circle but Fenrir pounced on them again. Beelzebub met the ground hard. They were already dazed by the loss of their hand and the blood from the wound. They struggled to get up, waving their remaining dagger aimlessly above them, hoping to somehow strike the werewolf enough to get away.

Fenrir had Beelzebub right where he wanted the demon.

Beelzebub strained their ears and senses, searching for help. The others were being overtaken by the cursed dogs. They could not get away. Fenrir pressed one giant hand into Beelzebub’s chest, pressing them into the earth, crushing their bones. Beelzebub no longer had the strength to lift their good arm and the dagger fell out of their hand. They tried to breath, staring at the stars shining above them, wondering if the Almighty was watching this happen to them.

A golden crescent of light appeared in Roziel’s hand and formed into a sleek bow. Roziel opened the palm that held the bullet and a ball of light formed around it, stretching itself out thin. It then solidified into a golden arrow, the tip made from the bright, contrasting silver form of the bullet.

Braum stared at Roziel in disbelief. “You turned the bullet into an arrow?”

“I could not shoot that gun, but I can definitely shoot from my own bow,” he replied, taking aim at the werewolf.

“You’re insane!” Braum yelled at him, looking to where Beelzebub lay.

“You have any better ideas?”

Roziel fixed his sight on Fenrir.

The werewolf was looming over the demon. Beelzebub could feel their ribs cracking under his weight. They stared at his massive teeth as he breathed onto their face.

Braum clenched his fists. “Do it Roziel!” he cried.

Roziel pulled the string of the bow tight, his hands still and unshaken, all of his confidence restored with his own perfect weapon in his grasp.

“Roziel!” Braum panicked, watching the scene play out in the field. “Take the shot! He’s going to kill Beelzebub!”

Roziel was silent. Words spoken by Mr. Shadwell earlier echoed in his mind. _You get one shot…make it count._ Roziel watched every movement the werewolf made intently. “I get one shot…” he breathed out.

Fenrir snarled at Beelzebub, his tongue lashing out and licking at the points of his teeth. Beelzebub turned their head to the side in terror, crying out into the night to anyone and anything that would listen.

Roziel watched.

Braum squirmed anxiously. “ROZIEL!”

Fenrir reared back his head, mouth open wide. He lifted the arm he was using to crush the demon, raising it high in the air, ready to swipe across the demon’s throat. Beelzebub shut their eyes, waiting for the blow, screaming out…

There it was.

Braum stopped breathing.

Roziel released the arrow.

*

Beelzebub’s voice gave out. They lay motionless on the grass. Their eyes were still shut. Something whirred past their ear, cutting through the air. Beelzebub dared to open their eyes. They turned their head slowly, looking at Fenrir above them.

Fenrir gazed down at the arrow that had lodged itself in his chest, piercing his heart. His arm fell to the side harmlessly. He started to feel himself shrink from the inside, his wolf form melting away. He sunk to his knees as a human, Beelzebub below him, staring at him wide eyed. He regarded the demon for a few seconds, and then he fell on top of them, dead.

Everything stopped. The dogs ceased their attacks on the others, suddenly very normal again and very confused. Fenrir’s spell was broken. They wandered around, sniffing the air and wagging their tails as they greeted each other, oblivious to the chaos they had just caused.

Gabriel ran to Beelzebub. He threw down his swords and skidded to a halt by the demon’s side, who was trying to crawl out from under Fenrir’s body. Gabriel pushed the dead werewolf off of them and pulled Beelzebub to him. He held their head against his chest. “It’s alright, it’s over,” he whispered.

Crowley and Aziraphale came running to the scene. Crowley appeared human once more, and he stared down at Fenrir. “That’s it then…it’s over,” he said, looking to Aziraphale and placing an arm around him as he took in the angel’s damage.

Beelzebub couldn’t take their eyes off Fenrir, laying still a few feet from them. They half expected him to get back up and finish them off while everyone's guard was down. They shook and gasped in shock.

Gabriel closed his wings over Beelzebub, blocking their sight of Fenrir’s body. He let his chin rest upon their head, running his fingers through their black hair. He stared at the golden arrow sticking out of the werewolf and then glanced over to where Roziel and Braum sat on top of the trilithon. He nodded silently to Roziel.


	10. Chapter 10

Gabriel carried Beelzebub back into the center of the stone circle. He didn’t give them the chance to try to walk when Aziraphale said the time had come. Beelzebub didn’t protest either. Crowley followed them silently from behind.

Roziel and Braum were waiting for them among the stones. Roziel’s golden bow was still in his hand and Gabriel gave him a small smile, relieved and proud.

Aziraphale guided them to where the Altar Stone once stood, now buried in the earth by one of the old trilithons that had toppled over it, concealing it from view. Gabriel carefully set Beelzebub down. The demon stood on shaky legs but held their own. They clutched their wounded arm to their torso, right hand gripping at the stump. Crowley remained by their side, arms reaching to steady the smaller demon should they stumble and fall.

Aziraphale sat Beelzebub near the Altar Stone. He motioned with one hand in a wide arc around them, light emanating from his fingertips. He traced a pentagram into the ground, him and Beelzebub standing in the center.

He took the demon’s good hand with one of his, and with the other he let his thumb and forefinger hover over the burning mark on Beelzebub’s forehead. Beelzebub stared into his blue eyes.

“Beelzebub,” he started, in a firm and authorative voice, “I release you from this curse.” He pressed his thumb and finger into the center point of the mark. “I make you free to roam all the Realms however you may choose once more.”

The others watched as the blue light transferred from Aziraphale’s hand into the mark on Beelzebub. The massive stones surrounding them took on the same blue glow. Even the ghosts of the stones that had vanished years ago appeared in their full form, making the broken circle complete in Heavenly blue light. The entire circle of Stonehenge lit up, pulsed in three rhythmic beats, and suddenly darkened as the light in every stone flowed down into the earth and into Beelzebub’s body in the center. It washed over them, culminating in the symbol on their head, burning brighter than the stars until it faded away into nothing, taking the cursed mark with it.

Beelzebub lifted their hand, both hands, to their forehead. They could feel that the mark was gone. They looked down at their once damaged arm, flexing the fingers on the hand that was restored. They then looked up at Aziraphale. He smiled at them.

“It is done,” he said. “You are free again.”

Beelzebub reached deep inside their being. They could feel their demonic strength had returned. They were at full power once more. They turned to look at Gabriel and Crowley, who were standing just beyond where the pentagram had been. Beelzebub held Gabriel’s gaze for a moment. Silent words passed between them. Then, Beelzebub looked to Crowley, nodding at him in gratitude.

Beelzebub turned away. Aziraphale stood back as he felt their energy flare, giving them some space. Beelzebub burst into an orange flame, sinking into the ground, back into Hell.

**

Crowley walked with Aziraphale out of the circle. “What a day that was,” the demon muttered to his angel. He limped slightly, insisting on healing Aziraphale first rather than his own battle wounds.

Aziraphale leaned into him, then stopped when he heard a noise near his feet. He looked down at a small dog, tongue lopping out and eyes staring up at him happily. “Well,” the angel said, “I’m afraid we’re not done yet. We have to get all these dogs back to their respective homes.”

Crowley sighed, just wanting to go home himself. He scanned the field, realizing for the first time just how many mutts there were. He hid his frown from Aziraphale. Almost. It was_ almost_ over. Then he could sleep for a week, or a month. He proceeded to send the dogs home one by one, snapping his fingers once for each, teleporting them away to their owners.

Roziel and Braum were recruited to help send the dogs home. They had to wrangle a few of the beasts who had wandered from the circle. Braum looked at Roziel as he snapped a dog away. “So, I guess you’ll be going home with your father,” he said, quietly, half hoping the angel wouldn’t even hear him.

“Yes,” Roziel replied. He stopped to look at Braum. “You should go home to, you know. Your mother is probably worried.”

“She doesn’t worry,” Braum laughed. But it wasn’t a genuine laugh. He knew the angel was right. It had been far too long since he had visited her. “Well, I do have to take the truck back first.”

Roziel tilted his head, brow furrowed. “Really? You would do that?”

Braum shrugged. “Yeah, I guess. I mean, you were quite concerned about it. I’ll even put a note on it, I promise.”

Roziel smiled at him. “Thank you, Braum. I’m glad I met you.”

Braum turned away and snapped some more dogs back home, hiding his face from the angel.

**

Gabriel stood over the body of Fenrir. He had consumed the werewolf in a bright, white flame. Heavenly fire would completely erase the evidence of Fenrir from the Earth. He watched it burn, fast and hot, any remains dissolving into dust and ash, and blowing away into the night, gone forever.

Once the flames went out, he motioned his hand over the ground where the funeral pyre had burned, and drew up new, green grass in the scorch mark.

**

Beelzebub walked down the long hallways of Hell to the throne room. A multitude of flies buzzed loudly around their head in a living crown. Demons lined the way on either side, and each one bowed their head, diverting their eyes to floor as Beelzebub passed by. A darkness heavy and imposing encircled Beelzebub, and no demon in all of Hell would dare challenge them now.

Beelzebub entered the throne room. Lucifer waited for them. He sat upon his flashy chair, slumped to one side, looking bored and uninterested as he always did. Mazikeen stood next to him, watching Beelzebub approach. She sneered at them. Beelzebub ignored her.

Lucifer perked up once he realized Beelzebub was standing there. “Ah! So the Prince of Hell returns! I am so glad you made it back in one piece, my dear! I do apologize for that whole little werewolf fiasco.”

Beelzebub stared coldly at him. He was indifferent as usual. No more games, Beelzebub thought. “Why did you send Fenrir after me?” Beelzebub’s tone was stern and demanding. The expression on their face emotionless.

“Oh, you know how boring it gets down here! You work too much! I’d thought I shake things up a bit for you. Get that bothersome Apocalypse going. You needed the break,” Lucifer smirked at them.

Beelzebub always had to read between the lines with Lucifer’s banter. They had become used to it over the millennia. So he was just bored? That was the reason for releasing one of their most dangerous prisoners? Beelzebub growled. “I do not appreciate being used as your amusement. I have a job to do, and I do it well. Stay out of my way, and I will stay out of yours.”

Beelzebub stared at him with cold blue eyes. They held his gaze for what felt like eternity. Mazikeen tightened her hold on her whip.

Lucifer leaned forward in his chair, dark eyes narrowing at the subtle threat. “Oh, my dear Beelzebub. I know you would _never_ do anything to trouble my detective friend. How about we let bygones be bygones, hmm? I am running late for an appointment with said detective, so I’ll leave you to it.”

Lucifer stood up, straightening the cuff on his sleeve. “You hear that everyone?” he shouted around the room. “Beelzebub’s in charge! I suggest you all keep your heads down while I’m gone, which may be awhile,” he smiled in a very self-indulgent manner.

Lucifer stepped down from his chair and strolled past Beelzebub. He clapped the demon on the shoulder as he went by. “Things kinda became a mess while you were gone, I trust you’ll get it all sorted out.”

He left, Mazikeen trailing behind him.

Beelzebub did not watch him go. They stared at the throne, a quiet rage seething inside them. They drew in a deep breath and turned away from it, becoming aware of the crowd of demons watching them in the room.

Beelzebub bared their teeth. “GET BACK TO WORK!” they shouted in their foreboding dual voice.

**

Gabriel scanned the area as he walked through St. James Park. He had a meeting and his steps were swift and light. He kept his awareness about him, wary of anyone trying to approach him. He knew where the person he was going to meet waited. He just didn't want to be bothered by any humans.

The archangel came upon a secluded spot, surrounded by a grove of trees. This area was a little too familiar in a very uncomfortable way, but Gabriel pushed the thought aside. All that was over now, and Gabriel was here strictly on business.

He moved into a small clearing, finding Beelzebub waiting for him. He studied the demon. They were back to their normal self, eyes bright, face serious, and overgrown fly perched on the top of their head. Gabriel was relieved and concerned at the same time, though he was glad to see his equal in a “good” mood once again.

“Beelzebub-ahhh!”

Gabriel jumped back, startled, as a little gray creature mewled at him near the demon’s feet. He could feel the dark energy moving through its veins as it stared at him.

“What is that!?” he pointed at the beast. He mentally prepared himself to call for his sword.

Beelzebub never took their eyes off the archangel. “My cat,” they replied calmly.

Gabriel watched as the cat walked over to him and rubbed its sides on his legs. It had a metal collar around its neck with a little skull charm hanging in the front. He tried not to squirm. “That creature is still cursed!”

“Yes, and his name is Nergal. It seems he likes you.”

Beelzebub had found the cat wandering the halls of Hell when they had returned. Beelzebub assumed it was because cats did whatever they wished and it had decided to keep the powers Fenrir had given it. Give a cat the power to raid Heaven and Hell, and it would most likely take the easier option of sleeping eighteen hours a day instead. Though they could never figure out how it had got there, Beelzebub saw no malice come from the cat, and it seemed to remember saving them from the two dogs in the stone circle. Beelzebub kept it, a companion to help keep their chair warm while they were off on business, not to mention guard it from unwanted guests.

Nergal purred against Beelzebub’s leg, and then scampered off into the brush, his attention caught by a soon-to-be unlucky mouse.

Beelzebub spoke to Gabriel. “Why did you never say anything?”

Gabriel paused at the question. “Say anything about what?”

“About remembering me.”

So this is what this meeting was about. A part of him was wishing that he had never revealed to Beelzebub that he remembered them, another part of him wanted to spill out everything and plead for forgiveness. He was caught between the two and he struggled to make words form in his mouth. Beelzebub stared at him, light blue eyes waiting patiently.

“Beelzebub…I thought everyone had forgotten. I tried to move on from it, as everyone else was. I didn’t want to confuse you if I had said anything.”

Beelzebub blinked at him, but seemed to accept his answer. He took the reason being that they had found themself in the same position he had been.

“Why weren’t you there?” Beelzebub asked coldly.

Why hadn’t he been there when Beelzebub faced judgment from God? He placed himself back during that tumultuous time, so long ago. So much was happening all at once, his memory was mostly a blur. Except for one thing.

He remembered Michael, before the Rebellion broke out, saying that he could not trust Beelzebub, then known as Beelzeen. Michael had told him how they were shady, too outspoken and free-willing, very unbecoming of a potential mate for an archangel like himself. Gabriel was still young and naïve at the time, new to the world and the universe like all the others, and he had trusted Michael maybe a little too much.

When the Rebellion was nearing its end, he still blindly followed Michael into battle. Gabriel knew the trials were soon to begin and he explained he needed to be there when they did. She said they had to finish off the last of the rebels, capture them all to send before God, show the Almighty just how good and thorough of an archangel he was.

There were hardly any rebelling angels left, and Michael had purposely kept him out on the field while Beelzeen faced their charges.

“I did not know they had already sent you before God, Beelzebub,” he said, pain from the memories dimming his purple eyes. “I was too eager to please. I stayed on the battlefield…if I had known you were being judged, I would have been the first in line to defend you.”

Beelzebub remained silent.

His wings unfurled. Gabriel went down on hands and knees, bowing his head, lowering himself far below Beelzebub's eye level. His wings spread out and lay flat on the ground, his pristine silver feathers brushing into the dirt in a completely submissive display.  
  
"I wronged you, and I won't ask for your forgiveness. I do not deserve to have it from you."  
  
Beelzebub stared at him. Their mind raced. Here was Gabriel, accepting their dominance over himself. No archangel would dare leave themselves so vulnerable against a full-powered demon. Beelzebub could so easily kill him. Just one flick of the wrist and their blade would connect with the back of his neck...  
  
"Get up."  
  
Gabriel slowly lifted his head. He chanced a glance at the demon's face.  
  
"I said get up!" Beelzebub repeated. "If this going to work, I don't need you groveling on the ground like a coward."  
  
Gabriel did as he was told, straightening to his full height. His wings folded at his sides. He looked at Beelzebub curiously. "If what is going to work?"

**

Crowley sped through London in his Bentley to St. James Park. Aziraphale sat next to him in the passenger seat. It was late at night, and the traffic was beginning to thin. Crowley sped along through the dark, a sour, yet troubled look on his face.

He had been resting peacefully in Aziraphale’s bed, the angel wrapped in his arms and stroking his hair while Crowley finally slept. Then the angel’s phone rang loudly. Aziraphale insisted on answering it, and Crowley released him, suddenly overcome with an uneasy feeling. Sure enough, Gabriel was contacting Aziraphale, telling him to head to St. James Park immediately. Aziraphale had to all but drag Crowley out of his bed, forcing him to get dressed, and get into the car.

Once on their way, Crowley received the same message from Beelzebub through the car radio. The urgency in the demon’s voice lifted Crowley from the haziness of sleep and made him alert. He was worried Beelzebub was in trouble again and needed his assistance.

He pulled up to the park in a screeching halt. He and Aziraphale got out of the Bentley and trotted across the park to the designated meeting place. It was an open area, dark and empty, no humans prowling around anywhere.

Crowley saw Beelzebub standing across from Gabriel. He slowed his pace when he realized Hastur and Dagon were with them. Aziraphale greeted the archangel, in turn staring at Uriel and Sandalphon.

“What’s going on?” Crowley asked suspiciously. He heard footsteps in the dark, and he turned to see Roziel and Braum approaching the group slowly, looking as unsure about the situation as he did.

Gabriel addressed the group. “We needed witnesses.”

Aziraphale looked at Gabriel and the other angels. “Witnesses to what?” He saw that both Uriel and Sandalphon were looking quite uncomfortable. Michael was noticeably absent.

Beelzebub spoke up. “Witnesses for this meeting. I’m tired of having games played at my expense. Lucifer has recently taken leave from Hell and has left me in charge. Which means I can do whatever I want.”

They stared Hastur and Dagon in the eye while saying that last part, daring them to object. Hastur only glared hard at Crowley in a way that said _I don’t know how yet, but this is all your fault! _Crowley only frowned at him, confused.

Beelzebub continued. “The war between Heaven and Hell was never settled. So I’m settling it now.” They reached out one hand, waiting for Gabriel to take it.

Gabriel nodded to the small demon. He reached out his own hand, taking theirs and shaking it lightly. “No more fighting between us,” he stated. “Only business essential to keeping the Natural Order. Any who do otherwise will be dealt with swiftly.”

All that were gathered around them stared at the handshake in surprise, shock, and disbelief. But none dared to object. Beelzebub released Gabriel’s hand and turned to look at Hastur and Dagon once more. “Your turn,” Beelzebub ordered. The two demons walked slowly forward to meet Uriel and Sandalphon. Beelzebub narrowed their eyes as they passed. “And if you try anything stupid, you will wish you had never been created.”

Gabriel turned to his companions. “Likewise,” he told them.

Uriel and Sandalphon went nervously to meet the two demons. The Dukes of Hell and the Archangels of Heaven brought their hands together in a solid peaceful agreement crafted by their respective leaders.

Crowley instinctively grabbed Aziraphale’s hand. Not far from him, Roziel latched onto Braum’s.

Hastur and Dagon released their grip of the two archangels and obediently took their place behind Beelzebub once more, heads low and faces contemplating what they had just done.

Beelzebub gave a rare smile to Gabriel. “It is done then.”

Gabriel smiled back. “It is done.”

In a flash of fire and light, Beelzebub and Gabriel disappeared with their entourage, returning to their respective realms.

Crowley and Aziraphale stood silent as the smoke dissipated.

“What just happened!?” Crowley said to no one in particular.

Aziraphale cleared his throat, eyes fixed on the spot Gabriel had been. “I think Heaven and Hell just came to an understanding…I think.”

“Oh,” Crowley replied. He looked to Roziel and Braum, who were just as perplexed. “What are you two doing here anyway?”

“Um,” Braum started. “We were just out…”

“Just _out?_” Crowley said incredulously.

Aziraphale raised an eyebrow at Roziel who glanced away, a bit embarrassed. Aziraphale could not hide the knowing smile growing across his face.

**

Gabriel was bathed in multicolored light as he strolled through downtown. His hands were in the pockets of his coat, his head held high. An uncharacteristic grin was plastered on his face as he went about the sidewalk, greeting humans warmly as they walked past him.

He saw Beelzebub waiting for him under the marquee sign of a theater, its light shaping and intensifying the shadows of the demon’s form. It was a beautiful kind of darkness. And Gabriel knew there could not be darkness without light.

Beelzebub silently greeted him, eyes bright, hair combed back and falling gracefully on their shoulders.

Crowley had been right. The world was new again. The old ways had been done away with. Though both of their old lives were something of the past, there was currently nothing now that said they could not try again, to start things anew with a fresh beginning. Gabriel looked at Beelzebub as if he was seeing them for the first time, and felt his heart give a little flutter.

Beelzebub was his equal in every way, and he was theirs.

_The End._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that's a wrap! Thank you to all my readers! I haven't been able to respond to all of you yet, but I've read all of your comments, and you kept me going on it. I hope you have enjoyed this story as much as I did writing it. 
> 
> Much thanks! <3
> 
> Also, there's a new pic of Roziel & Braum on my [Tumblr](https://pointycorgiears.tumblr.com/post/188162552989/so-many-people-are-asking-for-more-roziel-and) :)


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